


Hallowed King

by SpicyReyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gen, Hogwarts Teacher Harry Potter, M/M, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Multi, Severus Snape Redemption, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Two Harrys At Once Because God Hates Snape, both the redemption and the romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/SpicyReyes
Summary: King's Cross Station looks a little different, the second time.So does the riverbank. So does Sirius, so do the dementors - Hell, even his patronus is different.Snape, however, is infuriatingly unchanged.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, Young!Harry/Multi
Comments: 427
Kudos: 1511
Collections: Not to be misplaced





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> uh  
> ...yall know me by now okay? i like time travel,,,i like time travel making age gap dynamics disappear,,,i like older versions of a character being contrasted directly against their younger selves...  
> i have no further excuse for this than "i was writing my drarry time travel and thought 'what if this but he just fucks snape'" and came up with a shitpost that i accidentally made into an Actual Fic Idea and here ya go
> 
> note on "canon": JK Rowling's twitter is banned, story will mostly follow the books. Some details from the movies make it in, though, and they're distinguished slightly within the story - for example, the book's Elder Wand looks different from the movie one, and I work both versions into this story because fuck the rules im in charge now
> 
> notes on the tags: snape is gonna be dragged kicking and screaming to the Good Side, and reluctantly improve as a person, ear firmly pinched in older!harry's hand, and he will have to get well used to being Not An Asshole before anyone is ready to put up with his shit, let alone LIKE it. ship is slow burn, redemption is slow burn, we in this bitch for the long haul
> 
> warnings!! harry in the beginning of this dies. temporarily, for about 1000 words, and uh...it's heavily implied that he wanted it to happen. he's Not In A Great Place, but it's not explicitly dealt with...yet
> 
> other than that, enjoy, ig

He didn’t deflect it.

That was what got him, in the end - not a lack of ability, not a cosmic mistake, not anything that had been speculated would one day be the death of the great Harry Potter. 

No - in the end, he saw it coming, looked into a face he recognized…

...And he didn’t deflect it.

He let it come. 

  
  
  


“An auror, not blocking a curse?” A familiar, if long-forgotten voice sneered. “The initial hit wasn’t even fatal, Potter. You had plenty of time to retaliate.” 

Harry turned around. In the whited-out columns of Kings Cross Station, Severus Snape stood, watching him with open contempt. 

“You?” Harry asked, incredulous. “I expected-...”

Well...anyone else, really. 

“I was the last left,” Snape said. “Everyone else was more than happy to move along.” 

Harry blinked. “Move along…?”

“Move on, go forth,” Snape said, waving a hand dismissively through the air. “Whatever you want to call it, Potter. Every soul was at peace, and all that rubbish. They’re gone.” 

“Then why did  _ you  _ stay?” Harry asked. “You’re not waiting for me, certainly.” 

“You?” Snape scoffed. “No. I’m waiting for  _ it.”  _

Harry blinked. “It?” 

“Honestly, are you just going to stand there gaping at me, repeating everything I say?” Snape asked. 

Harry had forgotten, somewhere over the years, what an asshole Snape was. “Well, if you start making sense, I’ll stop questioning it.” 

“You threw away your tokens,” Snape said, “but _ it’s  _ still bound to you. Death.” 

Harry’s brow furrowed. “That’s just a story, though. And, anyway, you just said it - I threw those things away. The wand’s buried, the stone is lost in the woods-...”

“And they’re  _ bound to you,”  _ Snape said. “Death will come to reclaim them.”

Harry threw his hands out, gesturing to the station around them. “Is this not that? Am I  _ still  _ not dead?” 

“Don’t sound disappointed, Potter.” 

The air around them started to get cold. Harry shivered, turning his head, watching as mist spread over the train tracks. 

“Dementors?” Harry asked, bewildered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Snape said. “It’s their master.” 

The mist darkened into thick black fog, blocking the tracks from view entirely. In the distance, he heard the distinctive sound of a train, but also another sound - like horses running. 

“What’s happening?” Harry asked, looking to Snape. “What is..?”

The horses’ hooves sound grew louder and louder, until it was near deafening. 

“Here he comes,” Snape said, turning to face the far wall of the station, in the direction the sounds came from. 

Harry, however, looked to the side, as the mist was split by the arrival of a sleek white train, its details done in trims of gold and silver, a faint light spilling from its many windows. 

_ There it is,  _ he thought.  _ That’s the end. That’s-... _

A sound like an avalanche had him jerking his head to where Snape had been looking, as the wall caved in. Thestrals emerged from the hole, six of them, absolutely massive and with glowing red eyes. Behind them they pulled a cart, ornate and jet black. As the thestrals reached where he and Snape stood, they came to a stop, the cart rolling into place behind them, though no strings were visible to tie them together. 

The second it was still, the doors on either side of the cart swung open. It had no bench on the front for a driver, and no windows - this was a cart propelled entirely by reliance on the thestrals knowing where they were going, with no way to even check that they are still attached, or to watch to be certain they were going in the correct direction.

To get into it, you had to trust that you would get where you were going because of something stronger than your own eyes. 

“What...is that?”

“What I’ve waited for,” Snape said. “Notice, Potter, that it faces the opposite direction of the train?” 

Harry looked between the glowing eyes of the thestrals and the gleaming metallics of the train - it was true. The train faced the other end of the tunnel, ready to barrel ahead to better things...but the coach faced the wall on the other end. A glance at it proved that they were  _ not  _ simply intending to smash through it, as they’d done the other - the black mist that had parted for the train had gathered there, growing denser and denser until nothing could be seen but black, entirely hiding the wall from view. 

“...Where does it go?” 

“That’s up to you, I would imagine,” Snape said. “He’s tamed to your hand.” 

“But-...I don’t understand.” 

“It goes  _ backward,”  _ Snape said, irritably. “The train moves ahead, brighter and better things and the finality of moving on, all that. But this coach answers to  _ him _ , and  _ he  _ answers to  _ you _ . You could return. Defy the natural end, take your rightful mantle as Master of Death.” 

Harry looked to the coach, then back to Snape. “You...you waited here, for this?” 

“In theory,” Snape said, slowly, “Death’s power lies innate within all things. There is the possibility that its strength is higher than that of magic, which has proven to be stronger than time, when tested. It is possible that if there were someplace you wished to return to...it would find it. Regardless of  _ when  _ it was.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I...You’re saying I could go back in time? More than a few hours?”

“Is that not what I just  _ said?”  _

Harry looked at the coach again...then back to Snape, finally putting it together. “You want to go back, too,” he said. “You want to do it better.” 

“To finish things a bit less _ abysmally?”  _ Snape said. “Of course.” 

Harry frowned. “I could go anywhere?” he asked. “I could- Would I be able to stop my parents dying?”

“Ideally,” Snape said. “But, unfortunately...to do so would require you go back long enough to find and destroy every horcrux in time to defeat Voldemort, and you were only a baby at the time of the attack. Your lifespan is most likely your limit - there’s little you can do for them.” 

Harry’s heart clenched. “Then...where?” he asked. “Where would I go?”

“Before disaster, one would assume.” 

Harry stepped forward, reaching out, laying a hand against the flank of one of the thestrals. It turned a gleaming red eye on Harry, leaning into his touch. 

“Would you take me back?” he asked it, quietly. “To wherever I wanted to go? Let me..fix things?”

“The horse doesn’t have your answers, Potter,” Snape said. “You have to find them for yourself.” 

Harry took a deep breath. 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

“Finally,” Snape said, turning and going to the coach, climbing into it. 

Harry stopped short of following him, looking past the thestrals, into the black fog they faced. 

“Let me save as many people as I can,” he said, quietly. “I don’t care where, or when. Even one life- let me  _ try.”  _

He wasn’t sure who the prayer was to, but he had the feeling he’d been heard. That in mind, he stepped away from the thestral he’d been petting, and went to the door of the coach as well, climbing in himself.

As soon as he’d taken a seat - sitting across from Snape, rather than beside him - the doors slammed shut, the cold air peaked, and he felt the cart start moving as though launched like a rocket. 

His hands slammed down at his sides, gripping the seat. “Where are we going?!”

Snape looked at him, furious. “You don’t  _ know?  _ You’re meant to be guiding it!”

Harry shook his head, harshly. “No, I’m not!” he said. He wasn’t sure why, but he  _ knew  _ it to be true as he said it. “They knew where they were going! I’m just meant to follow.”

The coach lurched, pitching hard forward and then snapping back, tossing both Snape and Harry from their seats, sending them collapsing onto each other on the floor-

-And then falling again, crashing hard against wet grass, rocks and sticks pressing painfully into Harry’s back where he hit the ground. 

“Ouch,” he groaned. “Where are we?”

He received no answer. Carefully, he reached up, adjusting his glasses, before sitting upright. “Snape?”

Still no answer. The night around him was almost pitch black, but he could see just enough to know that Snape wasn’t anywhere near him. 

Frowning, he looked down, picking up his hands to examine them. 

They looked the same. Same size, same color, same calluses. He wasn’t younger at all- was it possible he’d dropped himself somewhere recent, instead? Or simply resumed where he’d left off?

It would explain Snape’s absence, but his gut churned at the thought. Especially if Snape had been caught somewhere in the void because of it - he’d been in the coach, too, so he couldn’t have moved on properly, could he? Would he be stuck as a ghost?

He put his hands against the ground to brace himself to stand, only to pause as his hand settled on the shape of a wand. 

A  _ new  _ wand - not his own. 

Frowning, he shifted again, lifting the wand up to his face. After a moment of frustrated squinting, he huffed, simply turning it over and whispering, “Lumos.”

The wand responded beautifully, even more readily than his own wand, and illuminated in a brilliant white light at its tip. 

The wand was...familiar. 

It was smooth, polished, and rather long - well over the standard length for a wand. Its based was two conjoined spheres, and that was the extent of the physical shape of it, the length nothing but a perfectly straight line. 

Holding it felt natural, strong - he twisted his hand around, holding the wand out experimentally, and it felt like an extension of his arm, rather than a tool held within it. 

He brought it forward again, looking along the body of it. At several points on the polished wood, there were discolorations - smears of darkened wood, like it had been burned, but each flecked with gold. 

They formed distinctive marks along the length of it, every few inches. Staring at it, Harry could almost see a new shape to it - extra knots, twisted at the point of each mark. 

_ Dumbledore’s wand,  _ he realized.  _ It’s… _

It had to be.

He was holding the Elder Wand, again, new and improved and every bit as powerful as he recalled. 

_ This is back,  _ he thought.  _ But why’s it different?  _

In the distance, he heard something rushing through the forest.

“Nox,” he breathed, extinguishing his light. The air around him grew cold again, and he stiffened, slowly raising the wand, then moving to get to his feet, ready to react. 

Screaming filled his ears, familiar even after all the years since he'd heard it properly. He pointed the wand into the dark, waiting - any moment, he would see them. 

And then he did. 

Swarms of dementors - more of them than he could count, all gathering together, moving as one. 

_ It's like… _

A sudden thought came to him. 

_ It can't be..? _

The dementors moved past him without even taking notice, too intent on their prey, and Harry rushed to follow them, finding himself on the edge of a lake. 

Across from him, on the other side, he could see distant, familiar figures. 

_ This is my third year,  _ Harry realized.  _ This is when… _

He looked around, searching for himself as the dementors grew closer to his youngest form, to the long-dead Sirius and the child versions of his two greatest friends. 

No one was there. 

_ I should be here now,  _ Harry thought.  _ Me and Hermione…. _

No one was hiding in the wood line, though, and a glance back showed the dementors descending on the party on the other side. 

He didn't have time to wonder what had gone wrong. He just acted, pulling forth his wand, casting the patronus charm on instinct. 

Except, it wasn't a stag that came from the end of his wand. In a swirl of silver light emerged a  _ thestral,  _ as massive as the ones from the coach, spreading its wide silver wings, launching itself fearlessly across the water, barreling through the dementors without hesitation. 

The creatures  _ fled,  _ there was no other word for it. They did not simply retreat from the patronus, but ran from it, streaming off into the night as though pursued by something horrible. 

_ Thestrals scare them? _

But, no, that wasn't it. He'd have to ask-...

...Hermione. 

Harry's eyes lowered, to the figure of the girl on the beach, hunched over but not unconscious. 

_ It's different,  _ he realized.  _ I changed it.  _

That meant…

Movement on the other side came again, and a moment later, a new figure emerged from behind the others on the shore. 

_ Snape,  _ Harry realized. He was going to take them to the medical wing-

-Except they were still awake, and scrambling to their feet, wands at the ready, blocking Sirius from Snape. 

He pointed his wand down at the surface of the water, casting,  _ "Glacius!" _

The water froze, a jet of ice spreading across its surface in a line, which Harry stepped onto, rushing across the surface of it, leaving it to melt behind him as he moved further. 

Within moments, he was at the other side, coming up behind the group- unseen to Harry and Hermione, but very visible to Snape, whose eyes darted to him immediately.

"Ah, that explains it," Snape said. "And here I thought you'd merged, as well."

Both kids turned to look, their eyes widening as they landed on him, Hermione letting out a shriek in surprise before smacking her hands over her mouth to stifle it.

Harry raised his wand, pointing it at Snape. "Which one are you?"

"The only one, idiot," Snape snapped. "I  _ merged.  _ Why there's two of you...I have a few ideas, but little worth mentioning. Less complicated, though. You'd make a dreadful teenager. Not that you didn't before."

"What's going on?" The younger Harry demanded, looking between them before settling on his older form. "Who are you?" 

Harry stared, unsure how to respond. 

The younger Harry looked behind him, across the water, than back to the elder again. "It was you. You saved us. That was your patronus."

"A Thestral," Snape said. "I was surprised to see it had changed, Potter." 

Both Harrys looked to Snape. Hermione looked between them, gaping. 

"Y-you," she stuttered, looking to the older Harry. "You're a Potter, too?"

Harry winced, looking to Snape. "Look what you've done," he said. "I'm pretty sure the last thing they need to know about is  _ me _ ." 

"But how else do you intend to save your precious  _ dog?" _

Harry looked to the unconscious Sirius, heart clenching. Seeing him alive, if knocked out….

Harry looked back up, aiming his wand again. "By not letting you lie," Harry snapped. "You know who he is. How important he becomes. You  _ know  _ he's innocent."

"Innocent?" Snape exclaimed. "He may not have killed those muggles-..."

"Oh, so he was a bully," Harry snapped. "So was Malfoy, and I got over it. People  _ can  _ improve, you know." 

"And does he?" Snape spat. "Does he ever? Because I recall him being beastly every waking moment up until-..."

"Shut up!" Harry snapped. "Don't talk about him like that! And  _ they _ shouldn't know this, anyway."

"Know  _ what _ ?" Younger Harry cut in abruptly. 

Harry spared the teen a glance, before looking back to Snape, focused on fixing the mess they'd created as quickly as possible. "Snape. Please. We can fix everything...but it has to start here. Testify. Tell them the  _ truth. _ " 

"And what if that makes it worse?" Snape replied. "What if he removes him from the sacrificial protection, hm? What if he breaks the spell keeping you alive?" 

"What if he gets arrested?" Harry countered. "I was in the woods, Snape. No one came. No one is going to come. If you turn him in, he dies. There's no one out here to stop it."

Snape lowered his eyes to the wand trained on him. "Save you, I suppose," he sneered. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I think so," Harry said. "Looks a bit different, but it feels the same." 

"It's distinguishing copies," Snape said. "The wand and the man, both  _ extras.  _ Trying to balance there being multiples of the same thing in the same place."

"Same thing?" Hermione asked. "What-...?"

"Oh, for the love of-.." Snape snarled, raising his wand, pointing it to Hermione. 

"Don't you dare!" Harry warned. 

_ "Obliviate!" _

Hermione stumbled back as the spell hit her, dropping to her knees, blinking bleary at Snape for a moment before pitching forward, collapsing on the ground. 

"Hermione!" The young Harry yelled, fearful, before turning his attention back to Snape, aiming his wand. 

Harry was going to kill Snape, if the younger version of him didn't do it first. Still…

Harry lowered his wand, pointing it at the back of the younger Harry's head.  _ "Obliviate." _

Harry swayed on the spot, then dropped, just as Hermione had. 

"You have  _ some  _ sense, I see," Snape said. 

"Shut up," Harry told him. "It was that, or give you an excuse to hurt him."

Snape drew up, looking affronted. 

"Don't act like you wouldn't," Harry spat, moving forward, crouching down to inspect the now unconscious teens. "You've hated me since before I was even born."

"I am the only reason you are still  _ alive,"  _ Snape reminded him. 

"And you made sure of that out of sheer spite," Harry said. "How much did you erase?"

"Your arrival," Snape said. 

"Oh, good," he said. "I was thinking we'd make them think they'd simply passed out as the patronus came in - leave them enough solid memory to acquit Sirius."

"Presuming I do not counter their claims?"

"Presuming that, yes," Harry said, returning to his feet and glaring at Snape. "You want to do things  _ better,  _ right? Well, this is where we start. We'll need every ally."

"You intend us to be some kind of  _ team?" _

Harry raised the Elder Wand, swirling it in the air pointedly. "You aren't doing it  _ without _ me." 

"I beg to differ."

Harry rolled his eyes, looking down at the others again. "Come on, help me, then," he said. "Levitate everyone back to the castle, 'Sorry, Minister, he was actually framed,' a nice pardon and a pat on the shoulder. Agreed?"

Snape came closer, stopping beside Hermione's form, stooping down to join Harry in inspecting them. 

"And just how do you intend to explain  _ yourself?" _

Harry faltered. "....Hm."

"So I thought," Snape said. "Luckily, letting yourself get blasted with a malicious spell did you a favor."

Harry blinked at him, confused, until Snape waved his wand, conjuring a mirror, which he handed over. 

Harry's robes had changed, pitch black with gold and silver threading. A choker around his neck bore a metal symbol of the Deathly Hallows, pressed just under his Adam's apple. 

But, what  _ Snape  _ had been referring to was his  _ face.  _

His forehead, and its distinctive lightning mark, were impossible to be seen. Instead, sprawling across it, and down the side of his face, curving along his cheekbone to almost engulf his eye, was a wild and ugly scar, like a fierce burn. 

"That looks...ancient," Harry said, raising his fingers to press on it, amazed that it didn't hurt in the slightest. "I just got it, didn't I?"

"You didn't get it for twenty more years," Snape corrected. "It killed you, Potter, I think its work was done well enough." 

"If I'm hiding, I can't be 'Potter,'" Harry said. 

"And what do you suggest?"

Harry looked down, at the scar warping his face, then at the Elder Wand in his hand. 

"...Peverell," he said. "I'll use Peverell." 


	2. Chapter 2

"Severus!" Dumbledore exclaimed, as Snape and Harry reached the castle, levitating bodies behind them. "And a stranger?"

His eyes landed on Harry, inquisitive. 

"A friend," Harry assured him. 

"Professor Snape!" 

Behind Dumbledore emerged Cornelius Fudge- a face Harry hadn't really missed, and a very important person  _ not  _ to have suspicious of him, if possible. 

By the squinting he was doing, though, Harry had already failed on that front. 

"Minister," Snape said, voice perfectly oily in a way that made Harry twitch. "I have apprehended Black-..."

"But he's innocent," Harry interrupted. "Peter Pettigrew wasn't murdered. He faked his death after killing those muggles, and left Sirius to take the blame."

"He what?" Cornelius blurted. "D-do you have any  _ proof  _ of this?"

Harry looked behind him, to the unconscious Sirius, and then back to Dumbledore. 

"You're a Legilimens," Harry said. 

Dumbledore blinked at him, eyebrows raised in a sort of amused curiosity. "I am."

"Read me," Harry said. "I'll show you everything."

A hand reached out, smacking against Harry's chest, as Snape stepped in front of him. 

"With respect, Headmaster," Snape said, "this is hardly necessary."

Harry bristled. "He-..."

_ "I _ can vouch for Black," Snape said, practically spitting the words. "While I have no fondness for him, it is true that he did not commit the crime for which he was imprisoned." 

"Well," Dumbledore said, looking to Fudge. "I can attest that Severus is a man of his word, and that he, of all people, would not be tempted for a moment to lie for Mister Black. Therefore I must believe he is telling the truth." 

"Or he's confunded!" Fudge suggested, waving wildly toward the floating bodies. "They've got three unconscious children!" 

"They're fine," Harry said. "Well, Ron isn't, but Hermione and-...ah, and Harry, are. And Ron's isn't terrible, really." 

"Considering they all three witnessed the transformation of a  _ werewolf _ , they're all lucky to be alive."

Harry glared at Snape, as Fudge took the bait, drawing up further. 

"A werewolf?!" He exclaimed. "Who? Black?" He looked at Harry _. "You?" _

"Remus Lupin," Snape said. 

"He only changed because you didn't give him his potion," Harry snapped. 

"You knew about this?!" Fudge looked from Snape to Dumbledore. "You  _ allowed  _ this?"

"Remus Lupin is an excellent teacher," Dumbledore said evenly. "He has served Hogwarts admirably, without a single incident, his...ah,  _ illness,  _ perfectly controlled with the assistance of our potions master and the Wolfsbane Potion." 

"This can't be allowed," Fudge said. "This is too far this time, even for you, Albus. Putting these children in danger- regardless of your, ah, political stance, a werewolf, in charge of  _ children?" _

"Nothing's wrong with Lupin," Harry argued. 

"And who are you?" Fudge demanded, rounding on him. "Coming here, questioning my judgement, claiming a criminal  _ long convicted  _ has been falsely accused of the crime he all but confessed to?"

"Ah, ' _ all but,'"  _ Dumbledore said. "He offered no confession, Fudge. He did not argue your sentence only because he knew there was no point. Your decision had been made."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Dumbledore tipped his chin up slightly. "You are a man of your convictions, Cornelius," he said. "To convince you there was a mistake would have required a fight that Sirius no longer had the will to undertake."

"You speak like you've known this all along!" Fudge snapped. "You've only just heard of it, as well, haven't you?" 

Dumbledore spread his hands out in an innocent, placating gesture. "I had suspicions, of course, that Sirius was not the type to betray the Potters," he said. "But the final choice on secret keepers was made between James and his friends alone, so I had no way to be certain it  _ hadn't  _ been exactly as reported. I argued, of course, but there was no evidence. I was dismissed - if you recall, Minister? As it was yourself who dismissed me."

Fudge flushed. "That  _ still,"  _ he said, turning back to Harry, "does not explain  _ your  _ role in this." 

"Again, the answer falls to me," Snape cut in again. "Minister, this is...a  _ colleague  _ of mine, Hari Peverell."

"Peverell?!" Fudge exclaimed. "I thought- the Peverell name is extinct in the male line, is it not?"

"Clearly not," Dumbledore said, musing, watching Harry - or, he supposed,  _ Hari,  _ however slight the difference _ - _ curiously. 

"The line is extinct in English wizards," Snape said smoothly. "However, the name came from a common ancestor, but branched into multiple different Peverell lines from other wizarding communities. Mister Peverell that stands before you is an Indian wizard, from the Eastern branch of the Peverell line." 

“I see,” Fudge said, in a disdainful tone Harry tried very hard not to take offense to. “And...you are in similar work to Professor Snape?” 

“He’s dabbled in teaching, on occasion,” Snape said, side-eyeing Harry, likely thinking of his underground ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ meetings. 

Harry smiled brightly in response. “Defense only,” he clarified. “I’m rubbish at potions.” 

He wasn’t, really, in the grand scheme of things, but he’d never figured out how to be  _ good  _ at them, either, and mediocrity was unsatisfying when one compared themselves to the likes of Hermione Granger and, dare he say it,  _ Draco Malfoy.  _

“Indeed?” Fudge lightened a bit, looking to Dumbledore. “Perhaps you’ve found someone to fill your class slot?” 

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Fudge. “Meaning that you are requesting I remove Remus Lupin?”

“A werewolf is hardly-...” Fudge started, but stopped, huffing, and turned back to Harry - probably too scared to look Dumbledore in the eye as he contradicted him. 

“Well,” he said, looking between him, Snape, and the unconscious Sirius. “I cannot simply pardon a man on hearsay. He’ll be taken into custody, and re-tried, where your individual testimonies will be considered.” 

“Against what?” Harry asked. “Common opinion?” He looked to Snape. “You have Veritaserum? We can solve this right now.” 

The Minister spluttered. “Veritaserum!” he exclaimed. “The- the  _ audacity-...”  _

“You can’t force anyone to take it, sure,” Harry said. “But give it to me. Hell, give it to Sirius. I don’t think either one of us would hesitate to take it and tell you the truth. Sirius didn’t kill anyone. The criminal you’re looking for is Peter Pettigrew.” 

“And where do you suppose I could find this dead man?” Fudge replied. “He is the only real evidence you have.”

“On the ground, somewhere,” Harry suggested. “He’s an unregistered animagus. A rat.”

Fudge’s nose twitched. “...Fitting,” he said. “Provided you’re telling the truth, that is.” 

“Let Sirius go,” Harry said. “I’ll bring you Pettigrew. I don’t know where he is now, but I know where he’s going - he’s returning to Voldemort.”

Fudge winced, letting out a sharp hiss. “You- you say it so  _ casually,”  _ he said, enraged. “Do you know the depths of that man’s-...!”

“Between the two of us, Minister, I’m the one he wants dead first,” Harry said dryly. “I frankly don’t give a damn what his name is. Unless they jinx it, I’ll say it - he won’t get the satisfaction of fear from me.” 

“Insolent-...” Fudge shook his head. “You may look like a man, Peverell, but you are clearly a  _ child  _ where it counts.” 

“Probably,” Harry agreed. “But this isn’t about me. It’s about Pettigrew. He’s going to find  _ his master,  _ and he’s going to do everything he can to win back his favor. And then he’s coming here.”

“Here?!” Fudge looked, astonished, to Dumbledore, then back again. “Into the dwelling of the only wizard he is known to fear?” 

“Into the home of his greatest enemy,” Harry said. “Into the place that spends most of the year housing  _ Harry Potter.” _

“You know this to be true,” Dumbledore murmured, eyeing Harry. “One does not need to even delve beyond the surface of your mind to feel your certainty.” He looked to Fudge. “Cornelius, I believe there  _ is  _ a danger to Harry Potter, if this man has escaped. And though we may not have the fullest confidence in him, it stands that he has been beside Harry all night, and has not harmed him - in fact, two witnesses testify that he was there to  _ help,  _ not to harm.”

“Five,” Harry corrected. “Remus, Hermione, and Ron can all tell you the same thing.” 

Fudge sniffed. “I  _ suppose,”  _ he said, eyeing Sirius again, “that we will listen to the testimony the others give upon waking. Separate them all, and do not allow them contact until  _ after  _ they have given a statement. If all their stories align, we...will reconsider.” 

“If that is your wish, Minister,” Snape said.

“Very well, Cornelius,” Dumbledore sighed. “We will divide our witnesses again. Severus, if you could take the wounded to the hospital wing? The others will be given separate rooms to recover. And…” he looked to Harry. “You and I should talk, I think. I’m curious about your part in this.” 

“And, about Lupin?” Snape prompted. “Someone should recover him.” 

“Ah, yes,” Dumbledore said. Then, to Harry’s complete surprise, he smiled at  _ him,  _ asking, “Master Peverell, it would seem I need to retrieve my defense teacher. Would you mind, terribly, accompanying me?” 

“Um...okay,” Harry agreed. “Sure.” 

“Very well,” Fudge said. “I’ll wait inside, Albus, until the witnesses wake and give testimony. You won’t mind if I borrow a few of your more trustworthy teachers to watch over them?”

“All of my teachers have my utmost faith, Cornelius,” Dumbledore told him. “But borrow as you wish. Few will be bothered to have been roused from their beds in the light of such an urgent situation.” 

“Right.”

Fudge turned, heading back through the door of the school, leaving Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry standing on the steps. 

“Don’t get killed,  _ Peverell,”  _ Snape sneered at him. “I won’t be there to revive you, this time.” 

“How tragic,” Harry said, dryly. “How will I ever cope without your help?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You’re forgetting who it is you owe all your successes tonight to,” he said. “You would have been more than happy to die in a duel with a wizard who could barely hold his wand straight, and instead, you stand on the steps of Hogwarts Castle, alive and well, and managed to save Black from a dementor’s kiss...at least for the moment.” 

“And Remus is still exiled,” Harry said, “because you told the  _ Minister of Magic  _ that he was a werewolf. And you obliviated Hermione.”

“You obliviated Potter,” Snape countered. 

“Well,” Harry said, petulantly, “You did it first.”

“Indeed?” Dumbledore questioned, jumping in - startling Harry, who had mostly forgotten he was there. “And why, must I ask, were memory charms necessary?” 

“To avoid-...” Snape started to say, but Dumbledore stopped him with the raise of a hand. 

“I think,” he said, “that Cornelius will be getting impatient, if we do not take the children and Sirius back into the castle now.”

Snape scowled, but got his meaning, muttering a mildly bitter  _ “Yes, Headmaster,”  _ before waving his wand, getting the bodies to turn in the air and follow him up the stairs, inside the castle. 

As the doors closed, Dumbledore’s wise eyes landed on Harry. “Now,” he said. “As we may speak freely...What brings you to Hogwarts?” 

“Voldemort,” Harry answered immediately. “He’s planning to make a move, and his biggest supporter just got free to go look for him. If he’s going to be stopped, it always had to happen here.”

“I suspect he will not be so easy to defeat,” Dumbledore said. “Yet you seem confident in your ability to be the one to stop him.” 

“I know what and where his horcruxes are,” Harry revealed.

A light sparked in Dumbledore’s eye - satisfaction, realization that he was right, perhaps. “You do?”

“Slytherin’s locket is in the Black family manor,” Harry said. “Charmed into a cabinet. A house elf has been guarding it for years.” 

“And the others?” Dumbledore asked. 

“One was already destroyed,” Harry told him.

“The diary,” Dumbledore replied. “I’m aware.”

“Two of them are alive,” Harry added. 

Dumbledore tipped his head. “...Two?” He looked behind him, toward the doors, then back again. “Who is the other?”

Harry didn’t both playing dumb about the first. “Voldemort has a snake - Nagini. She’s the last horcrux. And then there are three others.”

Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. “And they are?”

Harry took a step back. “We need to find Remus,” he said. “Before something happens. He might hurt himself.” 

“That he might,” Dumbledore agreed. “Very well. But, if you would not mind, Mister Peverell...might I see your arms?”

Harry huffed out a laugh, but rolled up ornate black sleeves, baring both of his arms. “I’m no Death Eater,” he said. 

“And yet, I look into your mind,” Dumbledore said, almost casually, “and I find a black fog, in place of thought. An impenetrable barrier of ambiguity, only the faintest traces of emotion left within. Anger. Grief. Longing.”

“Really?” Harry asked, surprised. “I’m not doing that on purpose. I don’t even feel those things, right now. I’m mostly just...tired, and a bit anxious. Annoyed at Fudge, maybe- oh,  _ furious  _ with Snape, actually. Not sure about the other two.” 

“Curious,” Dumbledore said. “Perhaps you have a protective charm you’ve forgotten?”

Cold, ominous black fog - that sounded like Death’s acts again, like the coach or the thestral patronus. Was that mysterious entity interfering?

“Regardless,” Dumbledore said, finally descending the stairs, “We should find my defense teacher, lest he harm himself...or give the Minister any further reasons to request his resignation.” 

“He can’t force Remus to resign,” Harry said. “...Can he?”

“Not directly,” Dumbledore said, falling into step beside him, starting off toward the forest. “But he can make it very, very difficult for him, and Remus will understand that. I doubt it will be long after he learns he’s been exposed that he tenders a resignation regardless.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. “So he’ll leave?”

“I suppose,” Dumbledore said. “I wonder...Hari, was it? Where did you attend school? What was the Indian magic academy again….Uttembatta?” 

“Ah, no…” Harry said, feeling it was best not to lie to Dumbledore, at least. “I, ah...honestly, sir, I should tell you-...” 

“There is no need to tell me,” Dumbledore said mildly. “In fact, it’s best if you don’t. No, it’s much better, my boy, for us both to pretend your face is not so familiar to me, and us to find an appropriate story we can both stick to.” 

Harry blinked. “..Sir?”

Dumbledore gave him a slight smile. “You should consider yourself lucky,” he said. “Peverell lines  _ do  _ still linger, I believe, and the Potters  _ are  _ descended from them. No one is likely to think you and young Harry anything other than distant cousins.” 

_ He can’t know,  _ Harry thought, staring at him.  _ Can he?  _

There was no way….

...Unless he’d read it in Snape’s mind, he realized. If he couldn’t access Harry’s, he might have sought answers in Snape’s, and the teacher might have shown him everything. Or, at least, enough - flashes of him as an adult here, a quick glimpse of him getting blasted in the face, the whole coach thing…

It was that, or he was really psychic, which Harry wasn’t ready to consider. 

“I believe,” Dumbledore said, coming to a stop, “that who you  _ were  _ is not as important as who you will grow to be.” He looked at him, grey eyes sharp. “Remus Lupin will almost certainly resign from his post. We find, these days, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is not particularly lasting. I had intended to call in a favor with a friend...but if you were willing to accept…”

‘Moody’ would be bad to have in the castle if he wanted to avoid the chaos of the Triwizard-

….The  _ tournament.  _

The fucking- 

_ Cedric Diggory.  _

On one hand, subverting the tournament meant events couldn’t play out the same-...but could he be as quick to act on a plan he didn’t already know? Would it be easier to adapt to being on guard for an attack, or to quietly undermine the one already in place? 

“Not... _ this  _ year,” Harry said, hesitantly. “I only get one, right? Better let it be, ah,  _ Harry’s  _ O.W.L. year. More of an impact.” 

Dumbledore laughed. “I suppose,” he said. “Though I do wonder where that leaves you?” 

“I’d like to stay, if you’d let me,” Harry said. “I need to, really. There are things that have to be done  _ inside  _ Hogwarts - horcruxes included.” 

“Very well,” Dumbledore said. “I suppose, as it was him who brought you, it would be Severus best suited to receiving a teaching assistant.”

“Me?” Harry exclaimed. “I’m terrible at potions. I already told Fudge.” 

“And yet,” Dumbledore said, “Severus believed that to be false.”

Harry came to a full stop. “He  _ what?”  _

“When you claimed to be ‘rubbish at Potions,’” Dumbledore said, “Snape’s mind dipped into doubt. I seem to recall an  _ Exceeds Expectations  _ mark on your O.W.L. report, if I was reading him correctly? It was barely a flash, before he’d stifled it, so it was hard to be certain.” 

Harry was going to  _ scream.  _

Snape?  _ Severus Snape,  _ notorious bastard and absolutely vicious potions professor, thought he was decent at potions? 

Next, he’d say he had a soft spot for Neville Longbottom. It was equally as ridiculous a concept. 

Still, though…

To be  _ in  _ Snape’s classroom, under his nose - he could try and filter some of the ire usually directed at his younger self and friends, as well as keep a better eye on things due to the proximity Snape often had to Moody. Snape also knew who he was, and knew about the horcruxes, meaning he could be helpful in both - insofar as Snape could ever be considered  _ helpful.  _

And, well. Snape didn’t think he was rubbish at potions. He was torn between laughing in Dumbledore’s face at the concept or laughing in Snape’s. 

“That works for me,” he accepted. “You can be the one to tell him, though.”

Dumbledore laughed, turning back toward the woods. “Yes, that’s probably best.” He waved forward, gesturing to the treeline. “If you would be so kind to take me to Remus’ approximate location? I assume you have the best knowledge of where he ended up.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Harry said. Stepping into the treeline, he called out to Dumbledore, “When you tell Snape, let me find Colin Creevey and borrow his camera.” 

“For?”

“I want a picture of the face he makes.” 


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you know the Homorphus Charm?” Dumbledore asked mildly as they grew nearer to the noises of something moving in the forest. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. He raised his wand, asking, “It’s a harsh downward flick, right?” 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said, but his eyes were on Harry’s hand. “That’s a curious wand.” 

Harry looked at him. “It’s changed,” he said. “I guess it didn’t want to be in two places at once.” 

“Highly likely,” Dumbledore agreed. “Though that makes one wonder how the legacy of either might be affected.”

“I didn’t want it,” Harry told him. “But, I don’t have my own wand, and this version feels a lot better than the other one, so I suppose I ought to use it.” 

“It feels different from the one you wielded before?” Dumbledore sounded fascinated. “Perhaps it is not the same wand, after all. Perhaps you were gifted a new version, made specifically for you - Death’s  _ true  _ master.” 

Harry grimaced. “I don’t know how I should feel about that.” 

A pained animal sound came from the trees in front of them. 

“Lupin!” Harry said, and took off toward the noise, wand ready.

Remus’s werewolf form was easy to find, given that he was whining, a tragic sound muffled by the flesh of his own arm, held between his teeth.

Quickly, Harry took the appropriate stance, flicking his wand down harshly to cast the Homorphus Charm. The yellow light that shot out hit Remus hard, and he balled up in place, but the charm clearly started working - fur retreating, spine reshaping, slowly reforming the human body within. 

Dumbledore emerged from the trees behind him, wand raised as well. “Ah, good,” he said. “You got it. Good evening, Remus.” 

The curled up human shivered. 

Harry unfashioned the ornate cloak from his shoulders, draping it over Remus carefully. “He’s hurt himself pretty bad, here,” Harry told Dumbledore, looking at Remus’ arm, the bite making  _ his  _ arm hurt just from looking at it. “He’ll need Madam Pomfrey, too.” 

“Indeed he will,” Dumbledore said. “Werewolf teeth are vicious things, even turned on oneself.” 

“Who-...” a weak voice asked, and Harry looked down, just at the same time Remus looked up.

His eyes went wide, staring at the unscarred half of Harry’s face in shock. “...James?”

“No,” Harry said. “I’m sorry. Just...a relative.” 

Remus continued to stare. “...There are no Potters,” he said, after a moment. 

“This is Mister Peverell, Remus,” Dumbledore introduced, stepping up to Harry’s side. “Harry as well, interestingly. Or,  _ Hari?”  _

“Hari,” Harry confirmed. He’d taken care of the ‘same face’ problem, he really didn’t need to navigate a ‘same name’ scenario, even if the only difference was a slight pronunciation. 

“Hari Peverell?” Remus repeated. “I-...it’s nice to meet you, I suppose, though I wish I were in a better place for introductions. I’m Remus Lupin.” 

“I know,” Harry said. “We’ve come to get you - Fudge will probably want a statement from you, too.” 

“Fudge?” Remus echoed. He looked confused, a moment, before his eyes widened again, his face going white.  _ “Sirius!”  _ He reached out, grabbing Harry’s arm. “Are you from the Ministry?”

“Uh, no,” Harry said. 

Remus looked to Dumbledore. “He’s innocent, Albus. It was-...”

“Peter Pettigrew,” Dumbledore finished. “Severus has already told us.” 

Remus blinked, more shocked even than before. “Snape...said Sirius was innocent?” 

“Under protest,” Harry said. “But he knows as well as we do that Sirius isn’t guilty.” 

“He also,” Dumbledore said, sounding amused, “seemed to view it as a personal favor to you, Hari.” 

Harry turned around, eyebrows up. “I’ll believe he doesn’t think I’m useless,” Harry said, “but you will  _ not  _ convince me Snape is doing things for my benefit.” 

“He does owe you a great deal,” Dumbledore countered. 

Harry snorted. “I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him,” he said. “Several times over, actually. If anything-...”

“Pardon me,” Remus interrupted, tentatively, “but...who are you?”

Harry looked back, faltering, not sure what to say - but Dumbledore cut in smoothly, telling Remus, “He is a cousin of James’, who has ties with the Order, and a personal friend of Severus’.” 

“‘Friend’?” Harry echoed. “He’s going to kill me as soon as he can find the time.” 

“That,” Dumbledore said, “would be a direct counter to the efforts he’s put in to keep you alive.” 

Harry made a face, before looking back to Remus. “It’s not really important,” he said. “We need to get you back to Hogwarts, and get your arm treated.”

“No,” Remus said, quickly. “No, the Homorphus Charm is temporary - I can’t change back so close to the school.” 

“Dawn is close enough,” Dumbledore said. “You will be fine, I believe. Mister Peverell, I believe, is fairly adept at charms, correct?”

“No expert,” Harry said. “But I’ve done this charm before - you’ve probably got enough time for the sun to come up. Your arm really shouldn’t wait, though.” 

Remus looked down at his arm, as though he hadn’t even noticed it. “Ah. That _ is _ rather bad, isn’t it?” He looked back to Harry. “Back to Hogwarts, then, I suppose?” 

“And to Sirius,” Harry agreed, offering Remus a hand up. “Let’s hope Snape hasn’t screwed it up.” 

  
  
  
  


Snape met them outside the medical wing, looking extremely sour. 

That expression generally meant things for Harry were going pretty well, but he still felt some instinctive anxiety - that expression  _ also  _ meant Harry was about to be in trouble, and if Snape couldn’t give creative detentions, Harry wasn’t really sure what he’d do instead. 

“Statements were taken from each of the children, as well as Black himself,” Snape told them. “You’ll be pleased to know they all aligned precisely.” 

“I  _ am  _ pleased,” Harry agreed. “And what did Fudge say?” 

“He is awaiting the final testimony,” he said, narrowed eyes sliding to Remus. 

“I suppose I’ll say my piece, then,” Remus said. “It was nice to meet you, Mister Peverell.”

“Hari,” Harry corrected. “It was wonderful to meet you, too, Lupin.” 

“Remus,” he corrected in turn. 

“If you’re done?” Snape cut in.

Remus gave Snape a small, tired smile. “Hello, Severus.”

“Fudge is waiting for you,” Snape said. “He will likely have some words regarding your employment, as well.” 

Harry bristled, but Remus seemed to catch it, reaching out and setting a hand on his shoulder to still him.

“I suppose this was a rather close call,” he said. “Very well. Professor Dumbledore, I will turn in my resignation-...”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Harry said, frustrated. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.” 

“Not intentionally, perhaps,” Remus said. “But there is only so much within my control. No, it’s better this way- I will see you in the morning, Albus.”

“In the morning, Remus.”

Remus pushed through the door into the medical ward, leaving Dumbledore, Snape, and Harry standing alone in the hall. 

“Thanks for showing Dumbledore who I was,” Harry told Snape. “Makes things easier.”

“Well I certainly wasn’t going to let  _ you  _ introduce yourself,” Snape said. “Your Occlumency was abysmal. You would have most certainly shown too much.” 

“Not a problem,” Harry said. “Apparently, he can’t read me.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Snape said. “Your mind’s defenses are practically tissue paper.” 

“It is true, actually,” Dumbledore said. “Read him yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

Snape met Harry’s eyes, and he felt the almost forgotten sensation of someone barrelling through his mental barriers, rifling through his thoughts. He saw the Battle of Hogwarts, saw the fall of Voldemort, then Ron and Hermione’s wedding, then the spell being cast to kill him-

Abruptly, Snape’s presence retreated, and Harry sagged under the relief of it. 

“Abysmal,” Snape scolded. “You were an  _ auror.  _ How have you not learned to protect your mind?” 

“Interesting,” Dumbledore said, looking between them. “Perhaps the two of you share a connection, as you’ve passed through time together.” 

A  _ connection  _ with  _ Snape?  _ Harry wasn’t sure he liked that idea. “But he can read my mind?” he asked, looking to Dumbledore. “And you really can’t?” 

“I cannot,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Perhaps your memories are simply things I am not meant to see.” 

“Time protecting itself, I presume,” Snape said. “There is nothing you can show me I don’t already know. The same cannot be said for anyone in this time.” 

“Did you really just...watch me?” Harry asked. “All those years?”

“It was hardly entertainment,” Snape told him, dryly. “I had little choice if I was to wait. And mind yourself, Potter, as I have no intention of being an idle observer again.” 

“‘Peverell,’ if you would,” Dumbledore corrected. “We needn’t cause any unnecessary confusion.” 

“Ten years,” Harry said, disbelieving. “You must have been bored.” 

“Immeasurably,” Snape agreed flatly. “Rest assured I will not put myself in that position this time.”

“I won’t, either,” Harry said. “We’re going to do this correctly, this time, for sure.”

“Don’t push our luck,” Snape warned. “I suppose you’ll be in the best position to begin hunting horcruxes.”

“Yep,” Harry agreed. “Starting here.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “You’re assuming Lupin’s position,” he guessed. 

“Not yet,” Harry replied. “I still need, ah… Well, next year is easiest to fix when I know what’s happening. I’m going to block out Umbridge, instead.” 

“Are you simply taking a year off,  _ Peverell?”  _ Snape sneered at him.

“I actually offered him a secondary position, in the interim,” Dumbledore cut in. “He will serve as a teaching assistant in the upcoming year.” 

“I doubt next year’s professor will agree to that,” Snape warned.

“Oh, not Defense,” Dumbledore said. “Rather, I thought it best we kept our new friend close to those who are aware of his true background.”

Harry  _ watched  _ the realization dawn on Snape’s face. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I see no reason to deny it,” Dumbledore replied, perfectly mild. “Working in your classroom would alleviate some of the pressures on the students in their upcoming OWLs, while also allowing Hari to investigate his own leads and interfere in existing plans.” 

“But a  _ potions  _ master he is  _ not,”  _ Snape stressed. “He cannot brew a single potion to perfection.” 

“Not true,” Harry argued. “I brewed nothing  _ but  _ perfect potions in sixth year!”

“Because you were  _ cheating,”  _ Snape sneered.

“Because I was  _ learning!”  _ Harry corrected. “If you taught your classes like you wrote your own notes, not a single student would fail.” 

“There would likely be a vast many more  _ attempted murders.”  _

“He was going to ‘crucio’ me,” Harry defended. “It was self defense. And I didn’t know what it did.”

“Exactly,” Snape said. “To use a curse you have never seen before, on a living person, on a  _ whim-...” _

“I believe,” Dumbledore cut in smoothly, “that the two of you will make an excellent pair for teaching this upcoming year’s potions classes.” 

Snape sneered, eyes not leaving Harry.  _ “Certainly,  _ headmaster.”

Harry watched him evenly, wondering at how relatively painless that had gone. 

Judging by the furious spark in Snape’s eyes, though, it wasn’t going to end there.

Behind them, the door to the infirmary opened, and a tired-looking Fudge stepped out. 

“Well!” he said, stopping in front of them. “It would seem that testimonies all agree, Black was not the main perpetrator of tonight’s events.” 

“Or  _ any,”  _ Harry added.

Fudge let out a sharp breath through his nose. “There will need to be a retrial,” he said. “One cannot simply pardon a man without proper-...”

“You  _ arrested  _ him without ‘proper’ channels,” Harry argued. “You can’t keep an innocent man in custody because you can’t admit you were wrong.” 

_ “Peverell,”  _ Snape warned, sharply, the fake name coming out strained. “You would do well to mind your tongue.”

“Yes, quite,” Fudge said, narrowing his eyes at Harry. “Black is a dangerous man, who is guilty of breaking out of a top security facility, even if his initial sentence turned out to be harsh. He  _ has  _ broken the law, and he  _ will  _ face consequences.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but a hand darted out, landing flat on his chest and pushing him backward a step.

_ “Calm yourself,  _ Peverell,” Snape warned. “You will do Black no favors by provoking the ministry.”

“You can’t give him back to the dementors, though,” Harry said.

Fudge’s face pinched. “No,” he said, though testily. “No, I don’t suppose we should. Aurors, then, shall be posted as guards for him, until the date of retrial.” He eyed Harry. “All witnesses will be contacted with the dates, once they are set, and expected to testify.” 

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed. “Whatever it takes. He’s  _ not  _ guilty.” 

“Not of murder, at the least,” Snape muttered.

Harry shot him a glare, which Snape returned. 

“Right, well,” Fudge said. “I suppose I’ll be going now, Dumbledore. I presume you can handle things from here?” 

“Yes, yes, of course,” Dumbledore said. “I shall walk you out.” 

They headed, together, for the exit of the castle, leaving Snape and Harry standing alone in the hallway.

They simply stared at each other, for a long time, before Snape’s chin tipped up slightly, looking down his nose at Harry.

“You will learn every potion to  _ my  _ standards, prior to its relevant lesson,” he said. “If the potion is not perfected, I will expect you to keep your silence during its class.”

“What, just sit there?” Harry said. “I won’t tell them what to do, if I don’t know, but I can at least help with the things I  _ do  _ know. Cutting up ingredients and whatnot, I can manage, easily.” 

“I will not have a single student brew anything substandard.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “You  _ love  _ students brewing things ‘substandard,’” he accused. “Neville ruining a potion was your favorite part of the day, you big bully.” 

Snape’s eyes sparked.  _ “Bully?”  _ he echoed, furious. “For having standards in my own classroom?”

“For being a bully,” Harry corrected. “People treating you like garbage as a kid isn’t a good reason to do the same thing to everyone else, especially when you’re an adult and you’re going after  _ kids.”  _

“If my students had any level of competence-...”

“No, see,” Harry interrupted. “I said it already. I was  _ great  _ at potions, using your notes. I understood everything I read, and I loved to study it. I genuinely  _ liked  _ potions lessons, that year.”

“Because you were praised for assumed genius,” Snape accused.

“Because I was  _ good  _ at something,” Harry said. “People would have forgiven me murder because of my name and my scar, but that year, I got recognized as an actual good student. Because of  _ you.”  _

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Am I supposed to take this tirade as a compliment?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “And me making a point. You  _ can  _ teach, very well, if the person learning is shown any level of respect. You taught yourself, so your notes were for  _ you -  _ they didn’t assume the reader was stupid, they didn’t dock points for crooked ties, they didn’t loom over the shoulders of nervous Gryffindors. They were clear, concise, and accurate. Teach like  _ that  _ if you want students to do well.”

“Forgive me if I don’t bow to your  _ vast  _ teaching experience,” Snape sneered.

“I  _ do  _ have teaching experience,” Harry argued. “I taught dozens of kids to make a successful patronus, anyway. Least you could do is put some genuine effort in.” At Snape’s resurfacing rage, he sighed, trying, “I  _ know  _ you didn’t want this job, just took it for my sake. I’m grateful for everything you did for me, even if you were a massive prick in the process. I’m just saying-...You have the chance to fix a lot of things, now. I’m the reason for that, right?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. 

“Right,” Harry said, pressing on. “Let’s say, then, that you owe me.”

_ “Do _ I, now?”

“Yep,” Harry said. “You do, and I’m calling in my favor, right now. Let me genuinely  _ help you  _ teach. I bet I can get the other Harry top marks.” 

“A  _ bet,  _ Po- Peverell?” Snape corrected sharply. “Are we children?”

“Technically,” Harry said. “At least, I somewhere around here, I am.”

Snape made a disgusted noise.

“Come  _ on,”  _ Harry whined. “Listen to me for once. I’ll keep you alive and keep everything going smoothly, and  _ you  _ can be less of a prick about it. Okay?” 

“I see no reason to revise my entire teaching strategy,” Snape said, dryly.

“Just take the bet, Snape,” Harry said. A wild idea sparking, he added, “If I can’t do it,  _ you  _ can write my lesson plan for the next year.” 

A fire lit in Snape’s eyes, but he tried to play it off. “Why would I want to simply  _ double  _ my own summer workload? I needn’t plan two classes at once.”

“Because nothing would make you happier than making me be a garbage teacher,” Harry said. “But you have to genuinely try! No giving wrong instructions or anything to make people fail on purpose. You teach the way you taught me in sixth year, through your potions book, and if it doesn’t help, I’ll do what you say for my own class. Okay?” 

Snape let out a low breath. “I am not so juvenile as to be tempted-...”

“Severus Snape, you absolute arse,” Harry said. “Would it make it better if I told you that if I have to sit around and watch you rag on _ children, _ I’m going to be just as much of a prick to  _ you?” _

“I’m not threatened by you,  _ Peverell,”  _ Snape snapped. “But...very well. One year on a balanced lesson plan. When their incompetence reigns supreme, I will enjoy watching you lead a generation of students into failing OWLs.” 

“Not possible,” Harry said, even though his own confidence wasn’t great in that regard. He doubted Snape would give him as bad a lesson plan as Umbridge, though, and Harry had still managed an O with  _ her  _ in charge. 

He stuck out a hand.

Snape eyed it like a striking viper. “A  _ vow?” _

“A handshake, you dramatic bastard,” Harry corrected. “To seal the deal.”

“Selling my soul,” Snape muttered, but reached out, taking Harry’s hand as though it were diseased, giving it the very slightest shake. 

“Alright,” Harry said, pleased. “Now I just need to figure out what I’m doing for the summer.”

“You are remaining in Hogwarts,” Snape said. “I told you - you will learn every potion I intend to teach.” 

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to spend the summer teaching me potions?” 

“It isn’t a matter of  _ want,”  _ Snape said. “It is a necessity. I will not have incompetence in my classroom any more than necessary.”

Harry huffed, amused. “Fine, then,” he said. “You and me, and a bunch of fifth year level potions.”

“Fifth year?” Snape echoed, tone almost mocking. “Are you forgetting that I teach  _ every  _ year of students?”

Harry blanched. “You mean-...”

“You will be learning the entire contents of seven grade level lesson plans,” Snape confirmed. “Surely that would not be a problem? Given your innate ‘talent’ for potions?” 

Harry narrowed his eyes at Snape. “You’re on,” he said. “I’ll learn the potions, and we’ll teach them to your class.”

“‘We’?”

“Together,” Harry confirmed. “You’ve already agreed. You waited ten years for me, now you get to deal with me until this is over.” 

  
  


_ Waited for him?  _

Harry leaned back from the door, looking to Hermione, who’d initially been trying to  _ stop  _ him eavesdropping, but ended up joining in at the unknown voice talking to Snape. 

Through the spelled ‘keyhole’ Hermione had made, they had spotted the scarred face that had met them on the beach, right before they lost consciousness. 

Their mysterious savior, with the strange horse-like patronus, was apparently close to Snape. They’d only caught the very tail end of the conversation, snippets of dialogue like ‘It isn’t about  _ want’  _ and ‘You waited ten years for me,’ all of which sounded-...

Well. Rather like someone was  _ close to Snape,  _ which boded very ill for them.

“Who is that man?” Harry asked, looking to Hermione. “Do you know?”

Hermione shook her head. “His scars are very bad,” she murmured. “I wonder what side of the war he was on.” 

“If he’s friends with Snape, probably the bad side,” Harry muttered. 

“It sounds like ‘friends’ is putting it lightly,” Hermione said. She looked sideways, caught Harry’s raised eyebrow, and flushed. “Nevermind. Just a thought.”

Harry had no idea what she was talking about.

...He was pretty sure that was a good thing.


	4. Chapter 4

With statements taken and everyone dispersed, there was no need for Harry or Snape to hang around the infirmary. Snape abandoned Harry at the first opportunity, vanishing in the direction of the dungeons, as though guessing what Harry intended to do and wanting no part of it.

Harry, then, took to the stairs, toward the tower where they were still holding Sirius. 

Rounding a staircase along the way, though, he heard a shout.

“Nasty stranger!” it called, mocking. “So many nasty strangers in the school today. Don’t let the killer get you!”

“Piss off, Peeves,” Harry called back. 

The ghost appeared out of a wall a few feet away, turning over in the air. “Stranger knows Peeves! But Peeves doesn’t know the stranger, no. Should get Filch, I should.”

“I have permission from Dumbledore to be here,” Harry said, walking around Peeves - he was never quite willing to walk  _ through  _ a ghost. “And I’ll find a hex that works on ghosts if you don’t clear off.” 

_ “Nasty  _ stranger,” Peeves muttered, turning to follow Harry along the hallway. “‘Permission from Dumbledore,’ he says. I don’t  _ see  _ any headmaster. No, no - is he a ghostie, too?”

“He’s seeing to the Minister of Magic,” Harry said. “Snape knows I’m here, too. I could always go down to get him. Maybe I’ll send the Bloody Baron back, while I’m down there.” 

He got no reply, and spared a glance over his shoulder, into an empty hall.

“Yeah,” he murmured to himself. “That’s what I thought.”

The air got colder the closer he got to the tower, and Harry’s stomach sank.

_ Dementors? Still?  _

He was going to kill Fudge. What kind of ‘pardon’ left the cleared party in the custody of  _ dementors?  _ They would be absolutely ravenous for a taste of the pain Sirius was almost certainly feeling. 

They were definitely not a creature he missed.

He pulled out his wand as he breached the tower, and was greeted almost instantly by two dementors. 

A flick of his wand and a shout, and the strange new patronus burst forth again. Up close, Harry got a much better look at it: a thestral, for certain, even more eerie with a translucent silver body and wings. 

He missed his stag, honestly, but, like his wand, the loss wasn’t as aching as he thought it probably should have been. It was as though both changes were  _ right,  _ were as they were meant to be. 

That didn’t mean he accepted the ‘Master of Death’ thing, though. Not even remotely. 

_ Though,  _ he thought,  _ maybe I  _ could  _ hex Peeves. _

He’d try it sometime. 

He followed the light of the thestral up the stairs the rest of the way, to a locked door that the creature bounded through without pause.

_ He must be in here,  _ Harry thought. 

A simple charm unlocked the door, probably due to the implicit protection of a guard of dementors, and Harry let himself in, just as his thestral patronus dissipated. 

From the edge of the room, sitting on the floor, Sirius eyed him warily. “They’re being remarkably tame,” he said, “for creatures that you intended to feed me to.”

“I’m not from the ministry,” Harry said. “And you’ve been pardoned, technically.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. “I have?”

“Not completely,” he admitted. “They want to have a retrial, to make it properly official, but everyone they’ve interviewed gave the same testimony. It wasn’t you who killed those muggles, or betrayed m-...Ah, the Potters.” 

“Everyone?” Sirius echoed. “Even-...?”

“Snape spoke up first,” Harry said, correctly guessing what he was about to ask. 

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I might have bullied him into it,” Harry admitted.

Sirius squinted even harder. “And why would you do that? Who are you?”

Harry swallowed, realizing the time for honesty had passed. “Hari Peverell,” he introduced. “I, ah,” how had Dumbledore introduced him? A ‘friend’ of Snape’s?

_ Pass. _

“I’m...  _ acquainted  _ with the Order,” he decided on. “Not really a member, officially, but I...helped. A little.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Point is - we have a lot of bad things ahead of us, and we need every ally we can get at full fighting strength. Even Snape knows that.” 

“Why?” Sirius asked, sitting up. “What’s going to happen?”

“Peter Pettigrew escaped,” Harry said. “We didn’t get here in time to stop that.”

“We?”

“Ah, me and Snape,” Harry said. “It’s a long story. We were both ready to catch him, but I only got there in time to ward off the dementors, and help Snape clear your name.”

“I still don’t buy that,” Sirius told him. “But what else were you saying? About Peter?”

“He’s going back to Voldemort,” Harry said. “There are-...Ah. There’s spells, rituals, things he can do to come back properly. Pettigrew is going to help him with that. It’s very important that I-...Ah, that  _ Harry -  _ is protected next year. I’ve taken a teaching position here to help out with that, as best I can.” 

“And so you got me pardoned,” Sirius said. “To protect Harry? He can come live with me?”

Harry’s heart clenched. “I...don’t think he can,” he said, gently as he could. “There’s magic protecting him that only works at the Dursley’s house. Dumbledore won’t agree to take him out.”

“Fuck Dumbledore,” Sirius snapped. “I’m his godfather. He’s  _ miserable  _ in that house.” 

Harry sighed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “But your only property is more dust than floor, and Voldemort just regained some of his most loyal servants. He’s safer in the hell he knows.” 

“Bullshit,” Sirius muttered. “I can keep him safe.”

“Nobody can, actually,” Harry said, a bit sharper than he meant to. “Whatever you do, whatever  _ anyone  _ does - Harry will be in danger every second until Voldemort is dead,  _ properly.  _ I’m working on making that a little more doable, and until then, as terrible as it is, Harry has to put up with it.” 

“Easy for you to say,” Sirius snapped back, face twisted in fury that made Harry ache. “What do you know of what he’s going through? Growing up in a house where everyone hates you?” 

Harry snorted. “My ‘family’ hated me plenty,” he said, flatly. “I left their house at sixteen and never looked back. I  _ know,  _ but we can’t  _ do  _ anything about it until this is  _ over.  _ If we get that done quickly,  _ then  _ he can move in with you.” 

Something sounded behind them, on the staircase. Harry whirled around, pulling his wand out again, bracing.

_ They better not be coming to arrest him,  _ he thought, heart hammering. He wanted to do things properly, but if he had to fight an auror, he would. He wouldn’t let them-...

The door swung open, a furious looking Severus Snape in the doorway. 

“Ah,” Harry said, lowering his wand. “You  _ didn’t  _ know where I was going, then.”

“You are an  _ idiot,”  _ Snape growled, stalking into the room. “You would throw away everything we’ve already done for  _ Black?  _ He won’t be killed, Peverell.” The name barely paused after the  _ p,  _ giving Harry the impression that it was almost rehearsed. “If you waste the past ten years of my time by making yourself into a fugitive as well, I will  _ personally-....” _

“I wasn’t doing anything!” Harry interrupted, offended. “I came to catch him up one what happened, that’s all?”

Snape’s eyes flicked down to Harry’s wand. “And yet,” he said, looking back up at Harry meaningfully.

Harry flushed, and tucked his wand away. “There might have been dementors,” he defended, weakly.” 

“Ah, yes,” Snape said. “Let it never pass a moment where the great ‘Hari Peverell’ gets to show off his specialty spell. Your abomination of a patronus is even worse than the first one.”

Harry almost grinned. “Did you just admit something was  _ worse  _ than my dad?”

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Watch yourself,  _ Peverell,  _ before you get us  _ both  _ into trouble.”

“It would probably be easier for you to use my first name, you know,” Harry said. “Just in case you mess up.”

“Not a chance,” Snape replied flatly, stalking across the room, coming to look down at Sirius.

Sirius glared right back. 

“You’ll be happy to know, Black, that Mister Peverell here has secured you a  _ human  _ guard, in place of these creatures,” he said. “Let you retain the shreds of humanity you still cling to.”

_ “Snape.” _

Snape looked over his shoulder, fixing Harry with a cool stare. “Aurors have entered the castle,” he said. “You’d do best to clear out, and give the dementors time to return, lest you be caught meddling.” 

Harry frowned. “But what if they-...?”

“Fudge agreed to let him pass in front of Dumbledore,” Snape said. “While I’m sure he would be happy to spite  _ you,  _ the man has the sense not to anger the one who could most easily displace him.” He turned around, heading toward the door. “Come along, Peverell, before you get all three of us  _ kissed.”  _

Harry spared another look at Sirius, heart clenching at the glare he met. 

He appeared to have made one relationship irreparably different from his past, but at the very least, Sirius would be alive to hate him. 

He turned as well, and quickly followed Snape down from the tower. 

“How’d you know I was up here?” Harry asked, as they reached the bottom. 

“Peeves,” Snape replied, in a disdainful tone. “He came to inform me he’d met my  _ ‘nasty friend’.” _

“...Gross,” Harry said, disliking how that sounded. 

Snape shot him an exasperated look. “You are a  _ child.”  _

“I’m twenty-seven,” Harry countered. “I’m only-...” He paused. “How old are you? Technically?” 

“1994 - I am thirty-four,” Snape said. “Alternately, thirty-eight, or forty-eight, depending on your count.” 

“Huh,” Harry mulled this over. “Which one would you say?”

Snape sneered. “However high or low the number, I am most certainly  _ too old  _ to be dealing with your antics.” 

“Well, you’re certainly old,” Harry agreed, in a mutter.

Snape came to a stop, wheeling around in the hall, glaring at Harry. “Could you, for a single moment, take this  _ seriously?  _ I had enough of your attitude in your school days. Your cheek was infuriating as a bratty teenager, it does not suit you any better as an adult. We are readying for  _ war,  _ and you want to bicker with the only person familiar without stopping to realize he is  _ on your side.”  _

“No,” Harry said. “I want to argue with the man who waited  _ years _ to help me fix things, and then acts like it’s the greatest chore in the world to try and make something  _ better.  _ I want to yell at the man who sold Remus out in a second, who genuinely considered letting Sirius be turned over to dementors, who-...”

“Yes, yes,” Snape snapped. “You value your own opinions over those of others, as usual.”

“My own opinions?” Harry echoed, incredulous. “Thinking that people don’t deserve to have their lives ruined or their souls sucked out because they were mean to you as children?”

Snape snarled. “They tried to  _ kill  _ me,” he hissed. “Forgive me if I am not keen to give them the chance to endanger another life.” 

“I almost got all my friends killed,” Harry reminded him. “Kids are idiots, Snape. All of them, myself included. Don’t hold grudges against  _ children.”  _

“Ah, right,” Snape said. “The paragon of virtue, testifying at the trials of his own childhood enemies, sparing the lives of those who’d called for his head. How could I forget?” 

“Should I have let Malfoy go to Azkaban, then?” Harry countered. “Is that what you’d have preferred?” 

There was a gasp, at the distant end of the hall, and both men blanched, whipping their heads in its direction to look. 

Harry caught a glimpse of frizzy brown hair as it whipped around the corner. 

“Hermione,” he muttered. 

Snape moved in an instant, stalking furiously toward them.

Harry reached out, catching his elbow. “Don’t!” he said. “She was just-...”

_ “Spying _ on a  _ teacher,”  _ Snape growled, yanking his arm free, heading quickly down the hall.

With a sigh, Harry took off after him, following him around the corner, back toward the infirmary. 

They arrived to see the infirmary door shutting, Harry’s younger self disappearing through it.

“Of course,” Snape snarled. “I should have imagined you were the perpetrator of this.” 

“Did we say anything bad?” Harry asked, unable to recall, having been mostly blindly arguing at the time. “If not, there’s no reason to bother them.”

_ “Bother  _ them?” Snape exclaimed, looking back at him. “As though  _ we  _ are the inconvenience?” 

“Yes,” Harry said. “They were going to follow us around, anyway. No way I’d have let something like this go.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of your insufferable need to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Snape muttered. “You realize they will assume you meant  _ Lucius,  _ yes?”

Harry blinked, confused, only to remember what he’d said, blanching once again.

“And  _ now  _ he realizes,” Snape sighed. “Three children with a passionate hatred for Lucius Malfoy will now attribute his freedom to  _ you.  _ Brilliant of you to go about making yourself out to be an enemy to every person you ever loved, truly.”

“You’d be the expert,” Harry snapped.

Snape turned furious eyes on him. Harry, tired of this, turned away, stalking off in the other direction.

He needed to see Dumbledore, and after that, probably take a trip down to Hogsmede. 

He didn’t really have a place to sleep.

  
  
  
  


“He let Malfoy go,” Harry hissed. “He’s the reason-...He almost  _ killed  _ Ginny!”

“We don’t know that,” Hermione shushed him, dragging him further into the medical wing. “There are probably a hundred Malfoys, it doesn’t necessarily mean Draco’s dad.” 

“But what if it  _ does?”  _ Harry stressed. “He let Malfoy go, he’s friends with  _ Snape-...”  _

“No, see,” Hermione cut in. “Didn’t you hear them fighting? I only caught a little bit of the beginning, when we first got there, but - it sounded like they’re working together on something, but they don’t agree on  _ how  _ they’re going to do it. The other man was talking about ‘fixing’ things… And then the bit about Sirius and Professor Lupin. Snape said they’ve tried to kill him.” 

“That’s not true,” Harry said, immediately. “It can’t be.”

Hermione’s face pinched. “I don’t know, Harry,” she said. “We don’t really know them that well…”

“Well, it’s  _ Snape,”  _ Harry said. “And he-...”

He drew up short.

“Lupin!” he realized. “That man said Snape sold him out!”

“Oh no,” Hermione breathed. “You don’t suppose he told Dumbledore that Professor Lupin is a werewolf? Oh, no, but he would probably already know. What did they…?”

A grumble behind them alerted them to their other friend stirring. 

“Ron!” Hermione greeted, switching gears in a second, heading over to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“We found out some things,” Harry said, coming to join her. “And there’s a bunch we  _ don’t  _ get, too.” 

“What do you mean?” Ron asked, sitting up. “What’d you find?” His eyes widened in sudden realization. “What happened to Sirius? Where-...”

“They’re letting him go, I think,” Hermione said. “We were trying to find out more, but we ran into Snape.”

Ron paled. “He didn’t-...”

“He didn’t notice us, really,” Harry said. “He was arguing with the man from the lake. They’re working on something, we think, but we don’t know what.”

“It sounded like they used to be close,” Hermione said. “Snape said something about knowing that man as a teenager, so they’ve been friends a long time.” 

“Snape has  _ friends?”  _ Ron asked, incredulous. 

Hermione pursed her lips. “Perhaps not very good ones,” she said. “They were really angry with each other. That’s why I said I think they  _ used  _ to be close - they know each other really well, but they don’t seem to get on, right now. Combined with what we heard earlier…” She reached up, resting her hand against her chin as she thought it through. “I’d need a lot more information to make a proper guess at what happened. It sounds like….Well, to me, it sounded like they both want to fix it, but can’t figure out how to go about it.” 

“You got that from  _ that?”  _ Harry asked. “I just heard them yelling at each other.”

Hermione huffed. “Didn’t you hear what that man said?” she asked. “‘The man who waited years to help me fix things’ - they’re working  _ toward  _ something, but they were both too angry to talk about  _ what.”  _

“It’s just hard to picture Snape having friends,” Ron said. “You sure you got that right, Hermione?” 

“They’re  _ something,”  _ she confirmed. “They were talking outside the infirmary earlier, and they were perfectly civil. They were talking about teaching together, I think. He mentioned Snape ‘waiting’ in that conversation, too.”

“Waiting for  _ what?”  _ Harry asked. “What are they planning?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione murmured. “I suppose...Well, we don’t have time to find out, right now. After the feast tomorrow night, we board the train home.” 

“Home,” Harry echoed. “Do you-...Do you think they’ll let me move in with Sirius?”

“Move in  _ where?”  _ Ron asked. “Didn’t he just get out of prison? Don’t suppose he’s got a house.” 

“He might get one,” Hermione said, hesitantly, clearly skeptical of the idea, but trying to remain positive. 

Harry shook his head, deciding not to dwell on it for the moment, when he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. “Next year, then,” he said. “Next year, we’ll figure out who that man is. Alright?”

“Agreed,” Ron said. “I got to know what sort of person hangs around  _ Snape.”  _

“And I’d like to know what they’re trying to fix,” Hermione said. “Even if it’s just their own relationship.” She lit up a bit, wondering out loud, “What if this man has something to do with why Snape’s always so angry?” 

“Then I’ll kill him,” Ron said, immediately. “No reason we should all suffer for one bloke.” 

“I just want to know who he is,” Harry said. “He saved our lives, and I think Sirius’, too...but I’m not sure why he’s with Snape, and if that makes him on our side, or…”

“I’m betting Death Eater,” Ron said. “No good man hangs around Snape, for sure.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Hermione theorized. “Maybe they  _ used  _ to be close, but Snape took a different side of the war than him.” 

“It’d be nice to have a bloody name, at least,” Ron said. 

“It really would,” Hermione said. “You don’t suppose Professor Lupin would know, do you?”

“Brilliant, Hermione!” Harry said, perking up. “He probably does know. We’ll ask him as soon as we can.”

“Alright, that’s a plan, then,” Ron said. “Now, someone get a house elf, or something. I’m  _ starving.”  _


	5. Chapter 5

Harry rounded a corner, only to come to a complete stop, almost running into Dumbledore. 

"Ah, Mister  _ Peverell," _ Dumbledore greeted. "I was looking for you. Professor Lupin has returned your cloak - I must admit, though, while I understood the duplicity of the wand, I had not considered the implications following, regarding the cloak or stone."

"What?" Harry said. He looked down, to where Dumbledore was holding a folded fabric in his hands, black with an odd shimmer to it. 

Dumbledore's words clicked in his brain, at last, and he gaped at the cloak.

"You think- that's an invisibility cloak, as well?"

"I would imagine," Dumbledore replied. "At least, in a sense. I find it...difficult to look at. As though I were staring into something just a touch too bright. My gaze turns away without thought."

"Huh," Harry reached out, accepting the cloak back, running his fingers over the material. 

It felt silky soft, fabric flowing practically like water beneath his fingers, and shimmered with a light that made the jet black look almost purple in places. 

"But, that means…" Harry looked up. "Shouldn't I have a stone, too? If they really doubled them up."

"I imagine it will come in due course," Dumbledore said. re said. 

“Right,” he said, before straightening back up, looking up to Dumbledore again. “I was looking for you, too. What should I do now? Is there anything else you want me to do, before I find a place to stay?” 

“A place to stay?” Dumbledore echoed. “Oh, of course. Forgive me for not seeing to it sooner - the Hogwarts staff have living quarters within the castle. The entrance to that wing is sealed from within the castle, so that students do not wander into it. You may take any empty apartment within that, if you wish.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. “Where is that, then?”

“There’s a portrait, across from the staff room,” Dumbledore said. “I will walk with you, actually, so that I may add your wand to the approved keys. From there, you should be able to enter with a tap of your wand. Though, I wonder if perhaps it will allow you anyhow, given the similarity between our wands.”

Harry hummed, pulling out his wand and looking it over. “It’s different, though,” he said. “I’m not sure how, but...I didn’t like using the other one, honestly. I liked my own wand best. This one, though...it’s more comfortable. It feels natural.” 

“A custom wand is a rare thing,” Dumbledore said. “Few wandmakers take the time to craft one entirely unique to its user’s need from scratch, as there is too high a risk that the wand will reject its intended recipient anyway. To have one designed from the first second exclusively for yourself - you will not find any wand more suited to you than that, most certainly.” 

Harry grimaced. “Not sure how I feel about that, honestly,” he said. “The cloak is nice, but I- I didn’t keep the other two on purpose. I didn’t want them.”

“Perhaps that is what separates you from those who have attempted to collect them in the past,” Dumbledore said, starting to lead Harry down the halls. “It is possible you were allowed to collect all three because you, unlike the rest, surpassed the greed warned against by the old story. Perhaps the entity behind their power was not bound against their will, but entered willingly into a partnership, with one they deemed worthy of the power.” 

“I don’t like that any better,” Harry admitted. “I don’t-...It’s not like I want to be anything special. My whole life, I’ve either been nothing, or everything. I’d just like to be a normal person, sometime.” 

“Well, you will have the opportunity,” Dumbledore said. “While Severus and I are aware of the power you wield, no others are. To the world, until the defeat of Voldemort, you are a Hogwarts teacher. With a mysterious past, and a remarkable talent, but ultimately, just a man.”

“That’s good,” Harry sighed. “Though, I’m not sure about how I’ve set things up. Sirius hates me, for one.”

“Sirius Black has been through an ordeal,” Dumbledore said. “In his mind, everyone remains an enemy. Those whose loyalties cannot be immediately discerned are especially so.”

“Well, it’s terrible,” Harry said. “At least he doesn’t like me because he’s worried about me, I guess. Or, well, other me.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said, hesitant, “you should begin to distance yourself from this mindset. Things would be easier for you if you separated yourself from Harry. A jump like the one you made is unprecedented, but from what I can surmise, you are your own entity, entirely detached from the young Harry Potter. Otherwise, you would have melded into your own body, as Severus did.” 

“Why didn’t I do that?” Harry asked. “I’m glad for it, don’t get me wrong. I would hate being thirteen. But it would make sense for me and Snape to be the same, wouldn’t it?”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore said. “You are in command of the journey. Severus simply joined you in it. It is possible that you had to come physically into the world to return, while Severus was forced into his own body, unable to create a solid manifestation of his own.” He tipped his head. “It may have something to do, as well, with death. Severus’ own was long past, and final. Your own might have been invalidated by your status. Severus, then, was a spirit alone, while you were whole.”

“So, he wasn’t meant to come along,” Harry said. “It was his idea, though. I didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“He is remarkably skilled at planning,” Dumbledore said. “He has outmaneuvered many in his time - and, I’m certain, will continue to do so going forward.” 

“I guess,” Harry muttered. “I certainly don’t know what I’m doing, anyway. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to tell people if they ask who I am.”

“Ah, right,” Dumbledore said. “I took the liberty of telling Cornelius a few untruths about you, when he asked.”

“He asked about me?” Harry asked. “What did you say?” 

“You were a student at Uttembatta,” Dumbledore said. “Your family was killed by followers of Voldemort, and so you joined the war effort, following groups of Death Eaters around the world. You came to Hogwarts because you caught wind of the possibility of Black’s infiltration, only to discover in your investigations that he was innocent.” 

“Right,” Harry said. “I think I can remember that. Ute-...Uttembatta?”

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Their houses, by the way, number four as well, sorted by student choice: Naga, composed of those who believe magic to be inherently about power; Kaka, composed of those who believe magic to be about understanding the world; Mayura, those who believe magic to be about bettering the world; and Ashva, who believe that those with magic exist to maintain the balance of the world.” 

“So...Slytherin, Ravenclaw...Gryffindor, Hufflepuff?” He shook his head. “The last two could really go either way.”

“They are not equivalent,” Dumbledore said. “I personally consider them more akin to the houses of Ilvermorny, which separated by aptitude, rather than personality. It is, of course, ultimately your choice as to which house you claim.”

“Let’s hope I don’t have to claim any,” Harry said. “That’s when someone’s asked too many questions.” Another thought occurred to him, and he asked, “How did I meet Snape, then?”

“It was not a fact I disclosed,” Dumbledore said. “Though, I imagine, if you followed dark wizards or suspected Death Eaters, you might have encountered Severus that way. You might have assisted him when he initially took position as a spy.”

“Maybe I bullied him into finishing my schooling for me,” Harry joked.

“It would give you an excuse to be familiar with his teaching,” Dumbledore agreed, the irony in Harry’s tone apparently blowing right past him.

“I forced him into being a teacher, because I’d dropped out of school early?” Harry said. “I’m not sure if anyone would buy that. He is a terrible teacher, and he never listens to me.” 

“Both untrue, if your interactions so far have any bearing on your history,” Dumbledore said. 

"Well, he won't agree to it, I'm sure," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure even calling us 'friends' is pushing it."

"He recognizes the necessity, I'm sure," Dumbledore said. "He is not a man whose trust is easily earned. For him to consider you a friend would mean you were of an unquestionable character."

"I'm not sure if that's a good thing."

Dumbledore gave a soft laugh, and they passed into another hall, which Harry recognized as the one with the staff room. 

"Here we are," he said, approaching a painting on the wall. 

At first glance, it appeared to be a female centaur. Upon closer inspection, though, Harry noted that the lower half of her body was that of a doe, not a horse. 

She tipped her head to them, fierce eyes following their every movement. 

“Ah...hello,” Harry greeted her.

She narrowed her eyes in response.

“Abequa,” Dumbledore greeted her. “This is Hari Peverell. He will serve as a teaching assistant to Professor Snape in the upcoming year.”

Her eyes never left Harry. She moved her feet, front hooves digging into the ground in front of her, and then took a step back. From the upturned dirt, there sprouted a plant, narrow green leaves branching out as it climbed higher. 

“Dill,” Dumbledore said. “An apt choice, Abequa.” Looking to Harry, he gestured to the painting. “Dill is meant to symbolise strength and unity in the face of evil. You’ll find her choices are often meaningful, if you know what you are looking for. Anyhow- tap your wand to the plant. It will open to you.”

Harry raised his wand, hesitantly tapping it against the plant. Under its tip, the plant stretched out, flowering further, punctuated by the sound of a door unlocking. A moment later, the section of the wall separated out, allowing Harry to get a hold of one side and pull it open.

“Apartments are labelled with names, as the dorms are,” Dumbledore told him. “Any unclaimed one is yours to use.”

“Thank you,” Harry told him. Looking at the painting, he offered a hesitant, “Thank you, too?”

She continued to watch him like he was a viper ready to strike. 

“Right,” Harry said, nodded to Dumbledore, and ducked through the door. 

It opened right into a set of stairs, and Harry was only on the second one when the room went dark. He turned to watch the section of opened wall seal back closed, cutting off his light. 

He raised his wand, ready to cast a  _ lumos,  _ but the room was only pitch black a second before lights welled up on either side of the staircase, floating orbs like the light of invisible torches. 

Feeling as though the new section of castle was bearing down on him, he crept up the stairs, following them up into a curved hallway.

There were several doors along the hall, which arced at the back and vanished, giving Harry the impression it looped around. Starting down it, he could see silver nameplates on the doors:  _ A. SINISTRA. B. BABBLING. F. FLITWICK. _

The door labeled  _ C. BINNS  _ was worn down and had a spiderweb in the corner, and Harry paused as he found himself in front of  _ R. LUPIN,  _ which had a cracked nameplate. 

_ “Ebublio!” _

Harry stumbled back a step, wide eyed, as he felt the jinx hit, a large bubble springing up around him, trapping him in the center of the hall. He turned in its direction, finding Minerva McGonagall stalking across the hall in a dressing gown. 

“Professor McGonagall!” Harry said, before he could help it.

She narrowed her eyes. “How did you get into the teacher’s wing?” she demanded. “Who are you? A student under glamor? Or an ally of Sirius Black, by chance?”

“No!” Harry said. “Well, I mean, Sirius-...”

Her eyes got even sharper, and she thrust her wand out, pointing it in his face just outside the bubble. “You  _ do  _ know Black?”

“He’s innocent,” Harry said. “Pettigrew killed those people, not him.” 

McGonagall’s face twisted in fury. “And who are  _ you  _ to tell these lies to me? You’re no student, which means there are no protections for you. I’m taking you-...”

_ “Minerva.”  _

McGonagall paused, not looking over her shoulder to greet the approaching figure. “Severus,” she replied, tightly. “There is an intruder in our hall, as you can see.”

“Snape!” Harry greeted, glad to see him for perhaps the first time in his life. 

“Peverell, what have you done, now?” Snape demanded, approaching the bubble. To McGonagall, he barked, “Break the jinx. He’s Lupin’s replacement.”

McGonagall’s wand dropped an inch. “Remus is gone?”

“He  _ will  _ be,” Snape said. “It’s been an eventful night.” 

“What happened?” McGonagall asked. A flick of her wand, and the bubble around Harry popped. “He claims Black is innocent?” 

“Not guilty of murder, in any case,” Snape said. “Whether that implies true  _ innocence-...”  _

“Oh, could you lay off him a moment,” Harry snapped. 

Snape glared at him. “Keep in mind I could have let her hex you as she wished.” 

“You wouldn’t have,” Harry said, more firmly than he believed. To McGonagall, he added, “And I’m not Lupin’s ‘replacement.’ I’m going to be a teaching assistant for the next year.”

“A  _ teaching assistant?”  _ McGonagall echoed. “For who?”

Harry looked to Snape, who grimaced in response.

“Severus?!” McGonagall looked to him in shock. “You know this man? Enough to allow him in your classroom?”

“We’re old friends,” Harry said, fearing the snarl starting to form on Snape’s face. “Which of these doors is unclaimed? I don’t see any blank ones.” 

“The doors move,” McGonagall said, finally dropping her wand. “The hall adapts to the intentions of those who enter it. Your own room should always be first.”

“What if there are multiple people in the hallway?” 

“Leaving your own room doesn’t affect the layout,” McGonagall said. “And there is a default order for when the hall is unoccupied or only being exited, which serves as the backup if someone were to enter without a specific room in mind - as you did. When multiple people enter, their doors are all moved to the front, following the order they entered the hall. Dumbledore told you none of this?” 

“He said to pick an empty room,” Harry said. “That’s all I got.” 

“At the very least he assigned you a space,” Snape muttered. “I’d worried, a moment, that he would continue to thrust your company upon me.” 

“Aw, you wanted me to sleep on your couch?” Harry asked, heavily sarcastic. “Do these rooms even have couches? They’re close together.”

“They’re  _ enchanted,  _ you buffoon,” Snape said. “Each one is its own complete apartment, configured to fit its occupant.” 

“What, like the Room of Requirement?” Harry asked, stunned. “This whole hall works like that?”

“To a degree,” Snape said. “And you would do well not to reveal so much knowledge of this castle, given this is your  _ first day in it.”  _

“But we’re such good friends,” Harry said. “You told me all about the castle, right?”

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Severus, what are you up to?” McGonagall demanded. “Who is this man to you?”

“A nuisance,” Snape replied. “Assigned to me by Dumbledore, personally.” 

“You volunteered,” Harry countered. To McGonagall, he said, “I’m a member of the Order. I’m hanging around to keep an eye on things, because there are some big plans in place for the next year or so for the Death Eaters, and it’s best for us to have all hands on deck."

"Death Eaters?" McGonagall echoed, looking between them. "Are they returning?"

"So it would seem," Snape said.

Remembering the story Dumbledore had just shared with him, Harry jumped in, "I've been following them around, keeping an eye on their plans. They are definitely making moves to come back."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, but Snape beat her to the punch. 

"Peverell," he said, tensely. "Perhaps we should  _ discuss  _ the extent of your intel?"

"What, now?" Harry asked. "I was going to-.."

"Your rooms will not be claimed by anyone in the minutes it takes us to cover the past few years of your history."

Harry sighed. "Fine," he said. "I already spoke to Dumbledore, so I can give you the short version."

"You will give what I  _ ask  _ for, Peverell."

"We're  _ friends, _ Snape," Harry said, cheekily. "Use my proper name?"

"No," Snape said, flatly. "Come with me."

He turned on his heel, heading down the hall. 

"Well, goodnight, Professor," Harry told McGonagall. "He's going to be annoyed if I don't go with him."

"We must speak more, in the daytime," she said. "I'm interested in hearing more about the plans involving the Order. Goodnight, Mister Peverell."

"Hari," he corrected. "So far, 'Peverell' just means I'm talking to Snape."

Her lips twitched up. "What, precisely, is your-...?"

"Peverell!" Snape interrupted, snarling from around the bend of the hall. 

Harry grimaced. "Goodnight, Professor," he said again. "I'll talk to you later."

Then, before Snape could come back and throw a hex, he rushed off down the hall, following the man around the bend.

_ I wonder what his room looks like,  _ Harry thought, only to immediately regret it, mind conjuring images of his disturbing dungeon office. 

_ Hopefully I don't end up with my toes in a jar, at least.  _

It didn't feel quite enough like a joke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick feedback poll: should I start spelling prime!Harry's name as his alias, Hari? I know some people aren't fond of name changes, so I've been holding off, but as young!Harry's pov will be worked in more soon, I figured I'd ask if you wanted clarification on who exactly was narrating.


	6. Chapter 6

_S. SNAPE_ was etched into the last labeled door, followed by about four or five empty rooms, by the looks of it. It figured that Snape would set himself as far away from others as possible - Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d originally taken one at the end of the hall, and it had simply rearranged to correct that. 

He followed Snape into it, and saw immediately that it was under a similar size charm as the tents from the long-ago quidditch match with the Weasleys. While the doors on either side had appeared a couple feet away at most, the inside of the room was significantly roomy, opening up into a neat little foyer. Snape didn’t pause, so Harry didn’t either, following him into a small, simple living room.

Snape didn’t appear to use his apartment for much - there was a single couch, a coffee table without a single thing on it, a table with exactly two chairs, and the most basic ‘kitchen’ Harry had ever seen.

He supposed Snape had little reason to be in the room, except to sleep, especially with meals being taken in the great hall, but it was still a bit jarring to be in a space so barren and think that someone genuinely _lived_ in it.

“So,” he said, trying to distract himself from analyzing Snape’s decor. “You want the full alibi? Dumbledore worked up a nice one.”

“Do tell,” Snape said, perfectly dry.

“I’m a dropout from the Indian magic school,” Harry said. “My family was killed by Voldemort, so I started hunting him down-...”

“Can you _refrain_ from saying that out loud?” Snape hissed. “Superstitions regarding the power of names aside, you are going to draw attention to yourself, being so loudly unconcerned.”

“There’s nothing scary about a name,” Harry argued. “And he hasn’t jinxed it yet, either, so it won’t kill me to say it.”

“Have some _discretion,”_ Snape said. “Take it from someone significantly better at hiding than you - do not give them reason to look too closely. Pick your character and _stick_ to it, don’t let hints of the Boy Who Lived slip through the cracks and get you caught. You hold no horcrux, anymore - the dark lord could kill you without thought.”

“Could he?” Harry asked. “I thought we said that wouldn’t work.” 

“We know nothing,” Snape said. “And given that you, unfortunately, are my best hope for surviving this, I would _prefer_ you didn’t test it.”

“Happy to hear you care, Snape,” Harry said. “Do you want the rest of the alibi, or are you going to keep yelling at me?”

“I have not even _begun_ to ‘yell,’ Potter,” Snape replied.

“Peverell,” Harry countered, the correction becoming increasingly instinctual. “I dropped out of school and started hunting Vol-...”

He cut off, heeding Snape’s warning glare. 

“Hunting _Death Eaters,”_ he revised. “I worked with the Order here, but travelled, I guess. Oh, and you taught me.”

“Have I gained employment history at Uttembatta?” Snape asked, clearly thinking this was stupid.

“No,” Harry said. “I just bothered you into helping me catch up on the things I missed when I left school early. That’s why I know what you teach like- and why I know you _can_ be a good teacher, if you apply yourself, you _absolute-_...”

“Careful, _Peverell,”_ Snape said. “And your sudden appearance, I suppose, is being attributed to the resurfacing of Black?”

“I came to arrest him, only to realize he was innocent,” Harry confirmed. “And now that Pettigrew’s escaped, I’m staying to watch over younger me.”

“Over _Potter,”_ Snape corrected. “You _cannot_ link yourself to him if you want to create the illusion you are genuine strangers.”

Harry - or, _Hari,_ he supposed - huffed. “Alright, then, _spymaster._ Do you have anything you want to add to my increasingly complex backstory?” 

“Keep it simple,” Snape said. “Lead people to believe you have some sense of privacy, if you are faced with a question you can’t answer. I’m sure that will be difficult for you, given your tendency to drag others into your business freely.”

“I can keep secrets,” Hari protested. “I hid a secret defense class under Umbridge’s nose for a whole year.”

“A class everyone knew existed,” Snape said. “The only thing you managed to conceal from her was its precise location. From the first meeting, _everyone_ was aware of it.”

Hari pursed his lips. He...didn’t doubt that, actually, when he thought back on that year, but he wasn’t admitting to that. 

“As for your story,” Snape said, “I suppose it is fitting that your alias, like your true identity, was _inflicted_ upon me at the earliest opportunity.” 

“I fancy we’re friends, really,” Hari chirped. “You’re secretly fond of me.”

_“No.”_

“Dumbledore agrees!” Hari said. “He said you don’t trust very easily-...”

“I _don’t,”_ Snape insisted. 

“Exactly,” Hari said. “So, if you liked me, I’d have to be trustworthy to _some_ degree, right? Especially since he’s already claimed you’re the one who really knows me. If the only person who knows me doesn’t even like me, what kind of person am I?”

“The exact same you’ve _always_ been,” Snape said. “Except without the fame padding people’s low opinion of you.”

 _That_ hurt a bit, but Hari refused to waver. “You like me,” he said, firmly. 

“No.”

“A little,” Hari insisted. “Just a bit.”

“Potter-...”

“Peverell!” Hari corrected. “Or Hari. Really, that would be better - I’ll remember it better, anyway. It’s closer. What if you call me ‘Peverell’ and I forget to answer?”

“Everyone will assume you’ve ignored me,” Snape said, dryly. “As you tend to do.”

Hari frowned. “I don’t ignore you,” he protested. 

“No,” Snape said. “No, I don’t suppose you do. You’re much worse, showing cheek whenever you are opposed.” 

“Defense mechanism,” Hari said, almost cheerily. “Sort of how you’ve got the whole surly, bad-tempered thing.” 

Snape rolled his eyes, taking a step back. “This is pointless,” he said. “You’re not taking it seriously in the slightest.”

Hari’s face pinched, eyebrows knitting together. “I _am,”_ he said. “People I love, who _died_ before - I have the chance to save them. I just don’t think that the biggest thing I should worry about is convincing people I went to a particular school or telling someone what my family was like. It makes more sense to me to just throw out enough information to get away with it, and then dig through the storage areas of the castle until I find the horcruxes again.” 

“This _is_ giving ‘enough information,’” Snape said. “People, _Peverell,_ are _nosy._ They will dig in the business of a curious new stranger in a heartbeat. A few basic facts and a false friendship will not protect you from that.” 

“But it’s a good start,” Hari said. “And we’ve got a whole summer to do the rest.” 

“Very well,” Snape sighed. “I suppose that’s the best I can expect. Go claim a room, Peverell.”

“Hari!” he suggested again.

“Are you going to start calling me _Severus?”_ Snape asked, sarcastically.

“Sure,” Hari replied, despite the fact that the idea was slightly horrifying to imagine. “Night, Severus.”

He got the briefest glimpse of Snape’s disgusted look before he turned, leaving the apartment, and moving to claim the next door down. 

They’d move around at night, anyway. What did it matter if he and Snape were neighbors?

_  
  
  
  
  
_

The next day, Harry and his friends got up at the earliest opportunity, heading straight for Lupin’s office.

When they entered it, though, it was to find him packing.

“You’re _leaving?”_ Harry exclaimed, looking at the case propped open on his desk.

“Ah…” Lupin sighed, looking their way. “Yes, I’m afraid I am. It did not escape the minister’s notice how I was indisposed last night, and it is best for us to avoid further incidents.” 

“But you’ve been fine all year!” Hermione protested. “And you didn’t hurt anyone last night, either, or we would have heard about it. They can’t fire you for that.”

“They didn’t,” Lupin said. “I resigned.”

All three gaped at him. 

Lupin gave them a small smile. “Sirius was pardoned, last night, and released into auror custody,” he said. “It’s not a hardship to leave, knowing he will likely need assistance integrating into the world again. I’m familiar with being an outsider, myself.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Harry said. “We wanted to ask you- the man, last night, who came to the lake with Snape. Did you see him?”

Lupin blinked. “Mister Peverell?” he asked. 

“He’s a _Peverell?”_ Ron asked, sounding awed. 

“Is that important?” Harry asked, unfamiliar with the term.

“They’re a wizarding family,” Ron said. “Absolutely ancient, and supposed to be really strong wizards. I thought they were all dead, to be honest.” 

“I spoke to Dumbledore about him, some, last night,” Lupin said. “He hails from India, it seems.” 

Ron looked sideways at Harry, then back again. “...Like the Potters?”

Lupin gave a small, hesitant nod. Looking to Harry, he added, “By Dumbledore’s claim, he is a cousin to the Potters.” 

A cousin? Harry didn’t have very good experience with those, but to think that he had _living_ family, however distant, from his _dad’s_ side…

“What’s he got to do with Snape, though?” Ron asked.

“They’re...acquainted,” Lupin said, even more hesitant. “I know very little about it, but from what Mister Peverell and Professor Dumbledore both said, they are close. I won’t speculate as to their full history, but Mister Peverell implied they had saved each other’s lives on multiple occasions, so I can only assume they are long allies.” He narrowed his eyes down at the trio. “Why? Did something happen? You’re not planning to do anything against Snape for his opposition last night, are you? It was only his testimony that got Sirius pardoned.”

“He said Sirius was innocent?” Harry asked, incredulous. “Even after trying to arrest him?” 

“He appeared to undergo an abrupt change of heart, upon Mister Peverell’s arrival, from what I hear,” Lupin said. “I suppose he trusted his old friend’s evidence of the true culprit more than he believed the circumstantial evidence against Sirius.” 

“So it’s _Peverell_ that got Sirius pardoned,” Hermione said. Looking to Harry, she said, “When they were arguing, Snape said-...”

“Arguing?” Lupin interrupted. “Were you-...Have you been eavesdropping on teachers’ conversations?”

“Teacher _s?_ ” Hermione echoed. “Is Peverell a teacher, too?”

Lupin hesitated a moment, before admitting, “Snape...recommended him for my position, actually.”

“He _what?!”_

Harry couldn’t tell what feeling was stronger - the disbelief that Snape liked a person enough to willingly put them in a position he’d openly desired for years, or outrage that the potions master had tried to replace their favorite teacher before he’d even resigned. 

“He can’t be as good a teacher as you,” Ron said, firmly. “You were brilliant.”

Lupin grinned at them. “That’s kind of you to say,” Lupin said. “Unfortunately, we will not get the opportunity to find out, it seems. Dumbledore told me that Peverell only accepted an _assistant_ teaching position, as he had-....Ah, _other_ business to see to, throughout the year. He will be in your potions lessons, instead.”

All three gaped once more, three slightly different variants of the same horrified look. 

“There’s going to be _two_ Snapes?” Ron asked, voicing the thought first. 

“They don’t seem that similar, from my limited interaction with them,” Lupin said. “Peverell seems….lighthearted. Jovial, almost. And he was critical of Professor Snape whenever he was mentioned, so something tells me them working together would be interesting.” 

“They _did_ yell at each other, last night,” Hermione told him. “Peverell was talking about ‘fixing’ things, and Snape-...”

“Please don’t read too far into adults’ conversations,” Lupin chided them, gently. “Dumbledore told me a little of their history - they worked together against the dark lord’s forces, at one point. With things getting tense again, it’s likely they simply disagreed in how to proceed. I got the impression Snape did not expect Peverell to remain at Hogwarts, even if he _did_ put his name forward. Perhaps he knew Peverell wouldn’t take it.” 

“So he did it to make himself look good,” Ron said. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lupin said. “There’s always the chance that Snape wanted to offer Peverell the _option_ to stay. The teaching assistant position might have even been his idea.”

Harry tried to picture _Snape,_ who would have hexed a butterfly for flying too close, liking someone enough to actively try to keep them around.

It was too weird to imagine. 

“Professor…” Hermione said. “Were they...I mean, _are_ they…?”

Harry and Ron both looked to her, waiting for the question, but she didn’t finish. Lupin, however, didn’t seem to be as confused as they were, and quickly answered, “Please don’t pry into teachers’ privacy. I understand you’re curious, but Severus Snape is a private man, and it is best you respect that.”

“Right,” Hermione said, flushed. 

Harry opened his mouth, ready to continue their interrogation, when a knock cut through the air.

Lupin looked between them, before sighing, calling out, “Hello? Come in.”

The door opened.

It was as though he’d been summoned, they all thought, as the mysterious man from the night before stepped in. 

“Mister Peverell,” Lupin greeted. 

“Hari,” the man said.

“Yes?” Harry asked, confused.

The man glanced down to him, and Harry’s breath caught. 

Harry had considered his own scar to be rather cool, before he learned where it came from, and then he sometimes found it grisly or sickening to look at. The tiny lightning bolt, however, was _nothing_ on the scars crawling across this man’s face. They hadn’t shown well in the darkness, but the entire side of his face was engulfed in spiderlines, blanched veins crossing over the skin of his forehead, down his cheek, onto the side of his nose, pulling at the corner of his mouth - it was as though he’d lain on his side in a pool of acid. 

“Oh!” Peverell said, looking down at the three of them. “Right, I forgot-...I can come back?”

He kept watching Harry, very warily, as though he were some sort of creature that might lunge after his fingers. 

“They were seeing me off,” Lupin said. “Did you need something, Hari?”

Harry turned around, confused once more to find Lupin still looking at Peverell.

“No, no, not really,” Peverell said. 

_Oh,_ Harry thought, looking back to him. Peverell’s name was Hari, too?

An interesting coincidence. It sat a bit oddly with him, making him suddenly wonder if his family had many _Hari_ s or _Harry_ s, passing the name along commonly. He’d never much wondered at the origin of his name, before. 

The man’s eyes were green, too.

Harry felt oddly like he was looking into a very damaged magic mirror.

“I brought something for you,” Peverell said, holding his hand out. “Charms were probably my second best subject, but I was a dropout, so this will be kind of rough.” 

Lupin held his own hand out, tentative, and Peverell dropped some sort of chain into it.

Lupin’s eyes widened as it hit his palm. “The magic on it is dense,” he said. “What sort of charm…?”

“Well, technically, it shouldn’t exist, yet,” Peverell said, nonsensically. “So we’ll all need to pretend it doesn’t, until it goes on the market, which shouldn’t be for several years. For good reason, too - I doubt this one will last more than a year, even with me being pretty decent with them.” 

“What’s it do?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s got a similar effect to a wolfsbane potion,” Harry said. “A friend of mine came up with it - she’s always been big on creature equality and such, and werewolves being treated like animals always drove her crazy. So, she made these - done _properly,_ they allow a werewolf to keep their mind each full moon, without having to take a regular potion. This one is probably a bit weak for that, so I would still _take_ the potions, but...as a safety-in-place, so you don’t hurt yourself if you end up stuck without one.” 

Lupin stared into his palm in awe. “Your friend is brilliant,” he murmured. “I can’t thank you enough for this. It’s a wonderful gift, especially for a stranger.” 

“Not a _complete_ stranger,” Peverell said. “And, considering I couldn’t stop Snape from smarting off and getting you sacked, it’s the least I could do.”

 _“Snape_ told on you?” Harry exclaimed, outraged. 

Lupin winced. “It was necessary for him to give a _complete_ testimony of events,” he defended. “Withholding information would have hurt Sirius’ case.”

“That’d be a bonus, for him, probably,” Ron muttered. 

“Well, he knows better,” Peverell said. “We need every ally we’ve got, and that includes Sirius, even if he doesn’t like it.” His face pinched, and he added, _“Sirius_ doesn’t seem to like the reverse, either. He doesn’t care much for me at all.” 

“You openly ally yourself with someone who he… _strongly_ dislikes,” Lupin pointed out.

“We don’t really have time for them to pout,” Peverell said. Then, he looked down, to the three students. “Aren’t you three going to head into Hogsmeade?” 

Harry’s face burned. “I, ah...I’m not allowed,” he said. “No one signed my permission form.”

Peverell blinked, then grinned. “Your guardian was pardoned, you know,” he said. “I’m sure you could get a form from him easily enough.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he felt Hermione and Ron both nudge him excitedly. 

“He’ll probably want to talk to you, anyway,” Peverell said. “I-...Well, I honestly pissed him off, so he’ll want to talk to someone that’s not me or Snape, most likely.” 

“Where is he?” Harry asked. 

“Ah, I can help with that,” Lupin said, turning and rounding his desk, only to reappear a moment later, familiar parchment in hand.

He passed the Marauder’s Map to Harry, then went behind his desk again, retrieving the invisibility cloak, as well. 

“These should get you up there, I would think.” 

“Keep your patronus charm handy, too,” Peverell warned. “They should have removed all the dementors from the castle last night, and replaced them with an auror guard, but the ministry is notorious for doing whatever they feel like anyway, so you might find stragglers.” 

Harry gave a sharp nod, then looked to his friends, who gave their silent agreement straight away.

“Thank you, Professor Lupin,” Harry said, looking to him. “You were the best teacher we’ve ever had.” 

“May your future teachers be even better,” Lupin wished him.

Harry grinned, then turned, looking to Peverell. “Thank you, too. Sirius wouldn’t have been let go without you, would he?” 

Peverell grimaced. “It was really mostly Snape,” he admitted. “I bullied him into it, a little, but Fudge didn’t care one bit what _my_ opinion was. Strange foreign wizard, scars all over his face, babbling about animagi- I probably seemed mad.” He looked down at Harry. “You should go see him, though. They’re waiting until the students are gone to move him.” 

Harry nodded, checked with his friends, and rushed from the room, eager to see his godfather again.

As he left the room, though, he heard Peverell let out a _whoosh_ of a breath, muttering, “He’s so bloody tiny.”

Ron seemed to hear it to, given he snorted, muttering, “He’s got no room to talk. He can’t be hardly more than five feet, and he’s an adult.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heights are going off movie actors...meaning, Snape is ~6'1"/185cm and Harry is ~5'5"/165cm


	7. Chapter 7

Most everyone in the castle, with the exception of the first two years an a handful of others, were off to Hogsmeade, but Hari still didn’t think he quite wanted to enter the great hall for breakfast. Luckily, one of the house elves must have noticed a new apartment being claimed, because he woke up to a full fridge and cabinets. 

Making himself something small there had been a good call, because the curious gazes of  _ three  _ familiar children was enough to unsettle him, and he still hadn’t ‘met’ most of the adults, either. 

The problem, though, was that he’d put himself in a position where he no longer had any clue what he was doing: his charm idea had occupied the first two hours of his morning, but he had an entire day left ahead of him, and not the faintest idea what to do with it. 

He could bother Snape again, he supposed, and resume their brainstorming his extended history, but he sort of felt like he’d rather pull out his own tooth, so he dismissed that idea. 

He could dig through the storage room, he supposed. He’d need to get Gryffindor’s sword from Dumbledore to destroy the horcruxes, but he doubted the man would have any objections. 

He might, however, want to wait, to ensure he had someone with him. None of the horcruxes had cooperated in their own destruction, and facing whatever came out of them alone sounded just a hair on the side of too stupid for him, especially given how his last fight went.

That bringing his situation to memory, Hari reached up, tracing his fingertips along the scar tissue on his face. 

All three of the golden trio had stared at him, when he’d entered Lupin’s office. He only got a glimpse of it in the dark, the night before, but he knew it was bad, and under his touch he mapped out the entire half of his face that it swallowed. 

He’d never been particularly vain, but it bothered him that he would bear such a permanent reminder of that loss.

If it even  _ was  _ a loss - Snape had accused him of letting it happen, and he wasn’t really sure he could argue. 

He shook his head, shoving the thought aside. 

No horcruxes yet, then. He’d handle the ones in the castle with Snape over the summer, if he could drag the man away from their apparently imminent potions lessons. 

_ ‘Remedial potions,’  _ Hari thought, mind straying to their terrible Occlumency lessons in fifth year. Who would have thought that spiteful cover story would become true?

If he was lucky, he could recall some of the Prince’s tricks. They were Snape’s own, so he would recognize them, but it wasn’t like Hari had the book for reference.

...Except, it was  _ in the school.  _

Without thinking, Hari turned in the hall, heading for the classroom that housed that particular cabinet of textbooks.

He wouldn’t let Snape see it, or he’d never live it down, but if he could skim through it once or twice before their first ‘lesson,’ maybe he wouldn’t be entirely hopeless. 

_ Unless he reads my mind,  _ Hari thought, because apparently even the defenses he’d learned in his time as an auror were worthless against Snape. 

Granted, his ‘defense’ was mostly just filling his mind with a feeling, any feeling, until it overwhelmed anyone trying to dig through his mind and forced them to withdraw, and that really only worked consistently against Voldemort and other far-gone dark wizards. 

He really was a rather terrible auror, the more he thought about it. 

He reached the potions classroom, pushing his way in, only to freeze in the doorway.

By the desk, Snape looked up, narrowing his eyes at Hari. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Hari said, quickly. “Nevermind. I’ll go.”

He took a step back, trying to throw up walls, only for him to  _ feel  _ Snape shove straight through them.

“My potions book,” Snape sneered. “Once again, you rely on others to carry you through incompetence.” 

“Well, it’s  _ you,”  _ Hari defended. “Who knows how to do what you want better than you?” 

“Curious,” Snape said, slowly, “that you  _ insist  _ I could be a capable teacher, and yet refuse to learn from me directly.” 

“It  _ is  _ you,” Hari protested again, a bit more firmly. “I just like you better as a teenager, I guess.”

Snape snorted. “You  _ would, _ ” he muttered, looking back to papers scattered across his desk.

Taking an interest, Hari crossed the room, peeking at the papers. “What’s all this? You can’t have classwork when school is  _ over.”  _

Snape shot him a  _ look,  _ suggesting he thought it was the farthest thing from Hari’s business, but surprisingly still answered. “My lesson plans,” he said. “I need to get them in order quickly, so that I know more firmly what we will need to cover before the start of the next term.” 

Hari grimaced, looking at the papers. Each parchment appeared to be of significant length, and was filled with Snape’s scratchy half-cursive handwriting, illegible at the steep angle. 

Snape, however, was no longer looking at his notes. “You are going to cause trouble, wearing that.”

Hari blinked, looking back up at the man, finding his eyes fixed around Hari’s neck. He raised a hand, brushing the skin there, feeling the choker from the night before.

“I took it off,” Hari said. “I was sure I did. I didn’t want to sleep with something around my neck.” 

“It’s possible it’s affixed to you,” Snape mused, eyeing it curiously. 

“So I just look like a fan of Grindelwald's,” Hari sighed. “Great. That’s what I needed.”

“The connection isn’t terribly well known,” Snape pointed out.

“It was to Krum,” he said. “Who is coming next year, remember?” 

“I am  _ aware,”  _ Snape said, testily. “However, he is a  _ student,  _ so he shouldn’t have much traction against you. Moreso given that his own teacher is a Death Eater.” 

“Former Death Eater,” Hari corrected. 

“There  _ are  _ no ‘former’ Death Eaters,” Snape muttered, turning back to his lesson plans. “Fetch the book, if you insist on relying on it.”

“If I  _ don’t  _ take it, will you teach me properly?”

Snape sat straight, abruptly, and rolled the parchments all together, holding them out across the desk to Hari.

“Lesson plans aren’t exactly-...”

_ “Take  _ it.”

Watching Snape curiously, Hari took the parchment, unrolling it. 

The entirety of it was  _ coated  _ in writing, some of it almost unreadable with how small and hastily scribbled it looked. Hari could see two distinct sets of writing: old ink in large, neat letters, and fresher, messier scrawl crammed in around it. 

_ FIRST YEARS will learn: _

_ Cure for Boils _

Then, in smaller writing, wrapping around the name of the potion, were notes:  _ EXACTLY six fangs. OFF fire BEFORE quills. Flobberworm mucus should turn mixture pink, nettles green, fangs pink, quills orange, slugs turquoise, final potion red. PINK IS NOT RED - you will make topical solution instead of ingestible form. _

Hari scanned down the page, then pulled it aside to reveal the one behind it, reading over it as well.

They  _ were  _ lesson plans, after all, but Snape appeared to have gone through them all, scribbling in tips and extra instructions. They varied from the detailed colour guide of the cure for boils to tips about which way to cut a certain ingredient here or how an extra ingredient made a particular potion stronger. 

“You made it like your book!” Hari exclaimed, thumbing through the sheets of parchment excitedly. “Every potion!”

“Read  _ all  _ of it,” Snape said, in the same voice he used to assign detentions. “It will cut back on the errors in our lessons significantly, if you take the time to learn it.” 

“Brilliant!” Hari said, beaming up at him. “Thanks!”

Snape blinked. “...It was necessary,” he said, as though Hari were stupid for thinking it a favor. “I hardly have the time to teach you seven years of potions.” 

“Well, if you’d taught me properly before, you’d only need to do two,” Hari said. At Snape’s narrowed eyes, he backtracked, rolling the parchment back up. “Really, though, thank you. I practically memorized the Prince-...ah, I mean,  _ your  _ instructions, from the book. I’ll remember these a lot better than lessons I took over a decade ago.”

“That is the idea, yes,” Snape said, sitting back in his chair. “Learn them as quickly as possible, so that we can start in time to get through the full curriculum.” 

“No deadline?” Hari asked, surprised. 

“Do you  _ need  _ one?” Snape asked, sounding exasperated. “You are, presumably, an adult.” Then, immediately contradicting himself, he tacked on, “Do it within a week.”

“A week,” Hari echoed. “Got it.”

“Now,” Snape said, before gesturing to his door.

“Right,” Hari said. “I’ll...see you later?” 

_ “Go, _ Peverell.”

Hari went. 

  
  
  
  


Hari spent the next few hours in his room, reading over each of the parchments and their scribbled instructions, soaking them in like he’d used to do Hermione’s last minute study guides. 

He only stepped away from them when he realized it was time for lunch. He debated, a moment, simply making himself something, or summoning a house elf, but figured it was best he braved the public eventually, and he needed to ‘meet’ the other teachers. 

Stepping into the great hall, though, he almost immediately regretted the choice, watching a hundred children eye him curiously as he crossed the room.

“Ah, Mister Peverell,” Dumbledore greeted, from the center of the table. “I was hoping you would join us. Come, meet the rest of the staff. Minerva-...”

“We met last night,” McGonagall said. “Hello, Mister Peverell.”

“Hari,” he corrected.

“Right, good,” Dumbledore said. “Hari, this is Professor Filius Flitwick-...”

“Good to meet you,” Flitwick chirped to him. “Minerva told me we had a new staff member oncoming. You will be working with Professor Snape, correct?”

“Snape?” Professor Sprout exclaimed, looking down the table, mirrored by most all of the other teachers. 

At his seat, Snape made a good show of not acknowledging them at all, taking a bite of his food and continuing to watch the Slytherin table. 

“I’ll be a teaching assistant, yes,” Hari said, drawing the attention back to him before Snape could-...well, do whatever he’d do if they all kept staring at him. “Hari Peverell. Nice to meet you.”

That hiccup out of the way, Dumbledore introduced him in turn to each of the teachers, including ones Hari had never really interacted with during his time at Hogwarts. He doubted he would remember all their first names, but he made an effort to take note of as many as he could.

His last introduction, as thought Dumbledore had been saving it, was to the teacher he’d missed most.

“And our Care of Magical Creatures professor, as well as our gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid.” 

“Hello,” Hari greeted, resisting the urge to be any friendlier than a normal introduction to a stranger. 

“Hello there,” Hagrid replied, cheerily. “I just started teachin’ this year, myself.” 

“Then we’ll be new together,” Hari said. “Though I won’t actually be teaching. I’m just here for Snape to have someone to boss around who is old enough to hex him.” 

Several of the teachers muffled giggles, and Hari couldn’t resist the urge to look over, finding Snape watching him with narrowed eyes.

“I’ve gone through all the notes once,” Hari told him, while he had his attention. “I’ll see about getting copies of the textbooks to pair them with.” 

“There are copies in the classroom,” Snape said. “Use some of the older ones, and you can make your own notes in them.”

Writing in a book? Hermione would have a fit. 

Though, Snape had a point - there were bound to be things Hari needed to remember that Snape hadn’t thought to write down, and it wasn’t as though Hari had access to the Potter vault to afford that many new books.

...Actually, that was probably going to be a problem, at some point. He had exactly nothing to his name, given that said name was made up on the spot. 

A problem for later, though, he supposed. 

“I’ll stop by after lunch, then,” Hari said. 

“I am in charge of surveying the halls, next,” Snape said. “Try not to damage anything in my absence.” 

“I’ve rifled through your things enough,” Hari told him. “I know how to leave it like I found it.”

“Do you?” Snape countered. “I seem to recall several instances of my organizational system being disrupted.” 

“Are you thinking about the polyjuice thing?” Hari asked. “Because we established that wasn’t me.”

“The second time.”

“The second time,” Hari conceded. “And the first time, I wasn’t the one who picked the supplies out, so you can write that off, too.”

“Right,” Snape said, sounding so weary it was almost a sigh. “You were the  _ distraction.”  _

“Sounds like you two know each other pretty well,” Hagrid said, looking between them curiously.

“Unfortunately,” Snape muttered, turning back to his meal, apparently done with participating. 

“I’m his favorite,” Hari told Hagrid, just to look over at the pinch in Snape’s expression as he mentally warred between denying it and continuing to ignore him.

“I see that,” Hagrid laughed. “He don’t ever let folk talk to him like that, usually.”

Hari was really toeing the line of things he would be punished for later, in the potions lessons he still had to take, so he skirted around the topic by looking along the table, asking, “Where should I sit?”

Dumbledore conjured a chair, but because Dumbledore was an  _ arse,  _ that chair happened to appear right beside Snape.

Snape finally paused in eating again to turn and stare at it as though trying to set it on fire.

Hari snorted at the look, and circled the table, coming to take his seat.

“Must you be inflicted upon me at every opportunity?” Snape muttered, as soon as he’d settled. 

“We,” Hari murmured back, rather pointedly, “are  _ friends.” _

“Not in a milenia, _ Peverell,”  _ Snape hissed. “And  _ take that off.”  _

Hari turned, raising an eyebrow, bewildered at the instruction.

“The  _ necklace,  _ Po-...Peverell,” Snape clarified. “Before you get yourself into trouble.”

“It’s nice that you care, Snape,” Hari told him, but complied, reaching up to unhook the choker, tucking it into the pocket of his robes. 

Now, if it could just  _ stay  _ off, this time.

“I thought you said nobody made the connection?” Hari commented, unable to help arguing, even if he’d already complied. 

“Not many,” Snape said. “But there are some, in my house in particular, who have  _ grown up  _ with such symbols, and you needn’t align yourself with them if you intend to play yourself as being on the so-called ‘right’ side.”

“So-... _ so called?!”  _ Hari hissed back. “As though that’s arguable? You-...Ugh.”

He huffed, turning away, ignoring Snape completely in favor of grabbing himself something at random and setting to eating it in a way he hoped didn’t look as petulant as it felt.

_ So-called,  _ indeed. Amazing, how over a decade of sitting in purgatory hadn’t made Snape any less of a bastard. 

Honestly. He’d  _ seen  _ how the war turned out, how horrible it got for everyone involved. Could he genuinely see any ambiguity in the idea that  _ that  _ was  _ wrong? _

He felt attention on him, and paused, looking down the table, meeting McGonagall’s eyes. 

She eyed him a moment, then slid her eyes behind him, to Snape, and back again.

Questioning.

Hari gave an exaggerated eye roll in response - a silent,  _ Snape is being Snape, that’s all.  _

Her mouth quirked up into a slight smile, and Hari felt a little better knowing they still got along well. 

He had the feeling Snape had witnessed the exchange, as there was practically a palpable air of tension between them, but he very deterimendly didn’t look, focusing on enjoying his first meal at Hogwarts in years. 

After about ten minutes, though, he went to reach across the table, going for a basket of rolls, and felt his wrist being caught in a vice grip of long, bony fingers. 

“That,” Snape murmured, “is  _ not  _ what I meant.”

Against his better judgement, Hari relaxed a fraction. “Then don’t say it,” he said. “Let me go.”

Snape released him, and Hari continued his meal, but the tension had broken, and he imagined they were back at their regular level of animosity. 

He felt the eyes on him again, and turned to see McGonagall looking away, turning back to her plate with a smile. 

She’d seen, then.

Well, he supposed he was going to get the ‘Snape’s favorite’ alibi, after all, at least. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new tags >:3

“Mister Peverell? If you have a moment.”

Hari paused, looking to McGonagall. “Yes?” he asked. “And call me Hari, really.”

“Very well,” she said. “If you call me Minerva.”

That was incredibly disturbing to imagine doing, but Hari forced out an “Okay,” and hoped he never had cause to address her directly by name.

“Good,” she said. “I wanted to ask a few things about you, if you would indulge me?” 

“Sure,” Hari said, internally panicking. “I don’t mind questions.”

“Right, yes,” McGonagall said. “Professor Dumbledore says you were a student of Uttembatta?” 

“Yeah,” Hari confirmed, glad she’d at least started with something he knew. 

“You don’t have much of an accent,” she said.

‘Much,’ he thought, was generous, given that he didn’t really have any accent at all. “My mother was English,” he said. “And my father died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. There was genuine empathy in her voice, but Hari couldn’t shake the feeling he was being interrogated. “And how did you come to work with the Order?”

_ Don’t say Voldemort,  _ Hari reminded himself, the passing crowds of children too nearby to go blurting out taboo phrases. “The, ah... _ Dark Lord _ was the one that killed my father.” 

“He’d ventured far from home.”

Hari had been questioned by Death Eaters, Voldemort himself, Dolores Umbridge, and at one point in his life,  _ Hermione Granger.  _ He would not falter to McGonagall, no matter how badly he wanted to fold and blurt the truth.

“He was after my mother,” Hari told her. “She grew up here, and had-...well, she had something he wanted.” 

“He didn’t get it?” 

“He did,” Hari said, quietly. “He just had to fight for it. That’s really the most that  _ could  _ happen, with him. He certainly couldn’t be killed.”

McGonagall gave him a small, sad smile. “All men must die, Hari.”

“Eventually,” Hari said. “It just doesn’t always stick.”

She frowned, looking like she was about to question him further, only to widen her eyes, looking at something over his shoulder.

“What?” Hari asked, just in time for a hand to drop onto his shoulder. 

“Peverell,” Snape said, in his most disdainful tone of voice. “The headmaster has requested I take you with me on my patrol of the castle. Apparently, that will be a duty of yours, as well.” 

“Really?” Hari asked, surprised. “He’s trusting  _ me  _ to get onto kids?” He paused, considering it. “Well, I suppose he lets  _ you.  _ Me not wanting to dock points probably balances out you taking them so easily.” 

“I dock points for rulebreaking, as is the policy,” Snape told him, annoyed, before looking to McGonagall. “If I could  _ borrow  _ Mister Peverell, Professor?” 

“Yes, of course,” she said, looking like she was trying to pin down a smile. “I’ll speak with you both later, then?”

“Anytime,” Hari said, immediately wishing he’d said something else. 

Judging by the grip on his shoulder tightening, Snape hadn’t liked that answer, either. 

McGonagall nodded to them both, and then turned, retreating after the crowd of students.

_ “You,”  _ Snape hissed in his ear, spinning him around, “are going to get yourself  _ killed.”  _

“It’s McGonagall,” Hari protested. 

“If _ I  _ can hear you readily oversharing information, so can others,” Snape pointed out. “Dances with death are not casual dinner conversation, Peverell.” 

“It’s lunch,” Hari countered weakly. “And I didn’t say anything.” 

“You revealed key knowledge of the Dark Lord’s abilities,” Snape said. “And multiple holes in your own story.” 

“I patched them up!” Hari defended. “Grew up bilingual, so no real accent, English mother had information she’d smuggled out of the country - it all makes more sense than letting her be confused, surely.” 

“Yet implies that you are the son of an influential figure, if he was given to hunting her down personally,” Snape said. “An influential figure of which she’d never heard, even though you supposedly worked alongside the Order she was an active member of. You don’t see how that would raise  _ questions?” _

Hari huffed. “So sorry,” he said. “Next time I’ll tell her I have amnesia, and let  _ you  _ answer her questions, instead, shall I?” 

Snape scowled. “If you would have  _ cooperated  _ last night, you would have known what to say to avoid suspicion.”

“It’s bloody  _ McGonagall, _ Snape,” Hari sighed. “The worst thing she is going to do is take it to Dumbledore, and he  _ knows.”  _

“It won’t  _ always  _ be an ally,” Snape said. “The information we carry, in the wrong hands, can lead to  _ devastation.”  _

_ “How?” _ Hari demanded. “No one other than you can get in my head, apparently, and your Occlumency never failed, and neither one of us is going to say a word about it. So,  _ how  _ are they going to learn anything useful, Snape? Even if they knew about us, that’s where it stops. That information is  _ useless.”  _

“No information is useless,” Snape snapped back. He opened his mouth, looking like he was ready to keep arguing, only for his jaw to abruptly snap shut, a hand darting out to grip Hari’s arm, dragging him from the great hall, down a corridor. 

“Where are you-..?”

“Someone,” Snape hissed, “cast a listening charm. It would see you’ve piqued someone’s curiosity, after all.” 

“What?” Hari looked over his shoulder, toward the direction of the great hall, and back again. “Who?”

“I heard it  _ break,  _ Peverell,” Snape said. “I didn’t hear who cast it. The only good thing about it is that, if it was audible upon breaking, it couldn’t have been properly cast. I doubt the listener was adept at charms - or that they got more than a few seconds of information.”

"A student, then?" Hari asked. "They might have just wanted to hear what the new teacher was up to, I guess."

_ "Or,"  _ Snape said, "one of your insufferable little friends wanted to hear the second half of the conversation they'd interrupted yesterday."

Hari shook his head. "No, no, they're in Hogsmeade. I sent them- told them to ask Sirius for permission."

Snape gave him an incredulous look. "You told them to break curfew on the word of a prisoner?"

"I asked for them to get a guardian's permission from a legal guardian," Hari countered. "I'm not  _ completely _ stupid, it turns out."

"That remains to be seen." Snape turned, stalking away a few steps. 

"Wait!"

Snape turned, looking sharply over his shoulder at Hari.  _ "What?" _

"I thought you needed me to come with you," Harry said. 

"For-..." Snape shook his head. "I  _ lied,  _ Potter. It's a skill I suggest you develop."

"Peverell," Hari corrected, almost absentmindedly. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"I don't know, or care," Snape said. "Whatever it is, do it  _ away from me.  _ It's been nearly a full day and I've already suffered your company for the most of it."

He left, then, leaving Hari standing awkwardly in the hall. 

He could go get the books, he supposed...or, alternately, he could see about fixing the problem he'd realized during lunch. 

He had no money. Exactly none - there was not a single thing on him besides the strange artifacts Death had dropped him into the world with. 

He supposed that, if he was to teach, he could simply ask for a small advance on his salary. That in mind, he turned, and headed for Dumbledore's office. 

  
  
  
  
  


"Money?" Dumbledore repeated, blinking at Hari. "Have you considered the Peverell vaults?"

Harry blinked right back. "The what?"

"Every wizarding family has a vault assigned to them by the bank," Dumbledore said. "The English branch of the Peverell family died off, and their vault was likely emptied in response, but the goblins would have kept records of how much coin was under their name. If you can present a legitimate claim to it, they should restore it." 

"How would I claim it?" Hari asked. "I'm not actually-..."

"You  _ are,"  _ Dumbledore said. "The name is yours, your blood carries the same magic, and - most importantly - you have a wand attuned to the magical energy that  _ originated  _ from the family whose name you took. You are as tied to them as a child who had been adopted at birth, and that is legitimate enough claim for goblins. Provided, of course, you give them no reason to refute it."

"Be nice to the goblins," Hari said. "Got it. I suppose I'll head to Hogsmeade, then, so I can apparate."

"Best of luck," Dumbledore wished him. "If you aren't able to secure funds, simply let me know any way you wish, and I will extend Hogwarts' funds to you to get you started."

"Thanks," Hari said, and headed out, making for a familiar passageway from the castle. 

He could have simply gone normally….but, well, force of habit. 

  
  
  
  


"Hari Peverell," the goblin at the desk repeated, narrowing their eyes at Hari. 

"Yes," he said, hoping they couldn't see how horribly nervous he was. He'd been calmer  _ robbing  _ the place. If they saw through him, realized who he was….

Snape would kill him. Many, many bad things could happen, but he would be dead first, because Snape would  _ murder him.  _

"We will have to verify, of course," the goblin said. "Your wand, first, and perhaps a drop of blood to be safe."

Practically sweating, Hari nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

"Your wand, then?"

Hari dug out the Elder wand, very hesitantly holding it out to the goblin. The teller, however, did not take it, but instead ducked below the counter, reappearing a moment later with a small silver box, which they sat on the edge between them. 

Hari, when gestured to do so, set the tip of his wand against the box. Almost instantly, a light came on at the top, and a piece of paper shot out the back, landing in the goblin's outstretched hand. 

The goblin turned it over, squinted at it- 

-and then looked up, sharply, at Hari. 

"Where did you get this wand?"

"What?" Hari asked, heart pounding in his chest. "It's mine."

"It," the goblin said, "is an  _ elderwood _ wand. There are only such wands in legends."

"It was made specifically," Hari said. "For me, specifically, I mean."

The goblin looked him up and down, then paused, eyes fixing somewhere-...

...Somewhere around Hari's neck. 

He reached up, quickly, fingertips pressing against the deathly hallows symbol that had once again returned to nestling beneath his Adam's apple. 

"A collector," the goblin murmured. "I presume this is a family heirloom, for you, Mister Peverell?"

He wasn't sure if the goblin meant the wand, or the necklace. Either way - "Yes," he said. "Yes, of course."

"I see," the goblin said. "Identity verified, it seems." He reached out, tapping the light of the silver box. It clicked beneath his finger, then sprung open, spitting out a jet black key. 

He hopped down from the counter, heading toward one of the little pods they used to reach vaults, and gestured for Hari to enter it. 

"This way, sir," he said. 

Remembering the sort of traps that waited in the vaults, Hari was very tempted to change his mind and leave, instead. However, Gryffindor foolhardiness won out, and he entered, letting the goblin steer them down through the winding, twisting paths of the bank's underground. 

"There are few vaults sealed with black keys, Mister Peverell," the goblin told him. "They are old vaults. Not a single goblin alive remains from the time those vaults were built. Your family is an old one."

"Very old," Hari agreed, weakly. 

"Safe vaults," the goblin said, turning narrow eyes on Hari. "Even goblins cannot enter. The black key will only work with an heir's own blood."

Hari swallowed. "What happens if someone else tries?"

"Death," the goblin replied, without hesitation. "If not worse."

Hari felt lightheaded. 

Perhaps Snape had a point about him doing stupid things recklessly. Though this one, at least, he was blaming on Dumbledore. 

The cart rolled to a stop in front of a massive black door, with a single, massive emerald embedded in its center. 

The goblin turned to Hari, holding out a hand. Hesitantly, Hari set his own into it, which the goblin turned over and suddenly pricked with a previously unseen needle, which vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Blood on the stone," the goblin instructed. 

Hari reached out nervously, smearing the blood from the pinprick across the emerald. 

For a second, there was nothing...and then, the blood sunk into the gem's surface, leaving behind a dark keyhole. 

The goblin passed the key to Hari, who put it in the door, letting himself in. 

The inside of the vault was not a mountain of gold, like the Potter vault. No - instead, it was top to bottom stacked with giant golden bricks, each stamped along one side with a series of gibberish symbols. 

"Gold belts. Old money," the goblin muttered, looking them over. "You'll need to exchange it."

"How much are they worth?" Hari asked.

The goblin squinted at them. "...20,000 Galleons," they said, sounding rather certain of it. 

"All together?"

The goblin looked at him as though he were an idiot. "A piece."

Hari almost passed out. 

  
  
  
  


Hari ended up exchanging exactly one bar, storing half the resulting sum back in the vault, and sealing the other half into a coin purse with a sizable expansion charm on it, as well as a lightening charm, because that was actually a very heavy load of gold to stick in one's pocket. 

He was rich once more, though, which meant he  _ could,  _ in fact, buy himself necessary things. 

That in mind, the first thing he did was head to Madam Malkin's. Death's odd, shimmery black robes were nice, but they were only one set. 

Though, as he stood in front of the mirror in her shop and noted the familiar black band once again wrapped around his throat, he worried he might not have much say in it. 

"A big order," Madam Malkin said, when he told her what he wanted. "I'll need to deliver it - whereabouts do you live?"

"Hogwarts," Hari said. "I'm, ah...a new teacher."

"Oh, lovely," she cooed. "I'll have the whole order sent to you - the house elves can handle the delivery."

Hari thanked her, and left the shop feeling significantly better, knowing that he was a little bit more prepared to live as a normal person for the near future. 

He was very tempted, upon passing it, to stop in the broom shop and look around, but he resisted. He  _ did  _ go to the apothecary, and the cauldron shop, getting himself all the necessary equipment to become a beginner potions master - or, at least, making his best go of it - and arranged it to be sent to Hogwarts as well. 

He didn't know what else he would need, so he wandered the street a moment, peering in windows. 

He didn't  _ think  _ he needed anything else...but then, something in a window display caught his eye. 

Owls. 

Hari's heart ached, thinking of Hedwig. She was still alive, though, and he had the chance to ensure she wasn't killed, this time. 

He was very,  _ very  _ tempted to buy an owl. He didn't need something else to care for, though, even if he might have been able to send slightly more secure mail with his own owl than a borrowed one. 

The thought hung with him, though, and by the time he apparated back to Hogsmeade, it was only the nausea he got anytime he travelled by magic that kept him from going back. 

It also, however, kept him from going  _ forward,  _ and he found himself stepping into the closest building to let the feeling pass. 

The closest building, however, was the damn Hog's Head. 

The  _ second  _ he was in the door, he knew he'd made a mistake. There was something in the air, some cold feeling, that told him there was nothing good to be found in there. 

He took a step back, and saw several sets of eyes flick to him, watching him closely. 

_ Leave,  _ he thought.  _ Never mind that you just came in - get out.  _

He took another step back, and bumped straight into someone. 

"Idiot," a voice hissed in his ear, and Hari had half a heartbeat to feel relief before a hand caught his own, dragging him back out into the street. 

"Snape!" Hari breathed, when they were outside. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for the idiot who has been placing orders in Diagon Alley," Snape hissed back. "Dumbledore claimed you went to access Peverell funds. Did you even consider the possibility-..."

"Yes, yes," Hari said. "I've broken-..."

"Shut  _ up,"  _ Snape snapped. "We need to return to the castle. There were Death Eaters in that pub, and on this street - Potter is in danger, as well as you."

"There are what?" Hari's heart pounded. "Why are they here? Did Pettigrew get to them that fast?"

"They may be looking for Black," Snape said. "Few knew that he  _ wasn't  _ the Death Eater the media made him out to be. They could believe he is here to lead them into a new era."

"That's not good," Hari said. "We have to find him and get back to Hogwarts. How are-...?"

Snape's grip suddenly tightened - making Hari notice, finally, that he had not been let go - and they were moving again, Snape dragging him into the space between the buildings of Hog's Head and the shop beside it. 

"Um," Hari blinked at their sudden proximity. "Are we hiding?"

"If you  _ shut up,"  _ Snape replied. "Death Eaters. I recognize them - and they, it seems, recognized me."

"Really not good," Hari muttered. "Plan?" 

Snape grimaced. 

"No plan, then."

"They can't learn who you are," Snape murmured. 

"No one would," Hari said. "We established that. It wouldn't make sense, even if I outright told the truth."

"You dismiss too easily," Snape hissed. He turned back to Hari, crowding him against the opposing wall, making their foot or so of space seem even smaller. "All you need to be is someone worth killing, and that is very,  _ very  _ easy criteria to meet. I  _ will not-..." _

A sharp squeak caught both their attention, and they looked to the entrance of the not-quite-a-full-alley, where an unfamiliar Hufflepuff was standing, staring wide-eyed at them. 

Hari realized, suddenly, how they were posed: in a small space, Hari pressed back against a wall, Snape inches from him, muttering at each other in low voices-

-Still, technically, holding hands. 

"...Whoops."

Snape made a strangled noise. 

"Careful," Hari said, releasing Snape and worming out from where he'd been pinned back. "We hid for a reason." He looked back at Snape. "We have to find-... eh. You know."

_ Me,  _ he wanted to say, because it was still weird to think of himself as a second person, but that was not something to say in front of a child who'd just walked into a teacher pinning a stranger to a pub wall. 

Looking back to the girl, he introduced, "Hello, I work at Hogwarts, starting next year - have you seen Hermione Granger, by chance? Ron Weasley?"

"T-they're, um," she gestured over her shoulder. "I saw them in Honeydukes?" 

"Ah, brilliant," Hari said. Looking over his shoulder, he asked. "Are you coming?"

Snape glared back at him. 

Rustling sounds and fading footsteps informed him the girl had taken off. 

"You  _ realize-..."  _ Snape started to say. 

"That she absolutely thinks we're snagging in an alley?" Hari finished. "Yeah, got the idea."

"Memory charms," Snape muttered, straightening up. "We must get much more liberal with the use of them."

"Don't Obliviate a child because you got in my face," Hari said. "Look on the bright side."

Snape shot him a look. 

Hari gestured out into the crowd. "You're a trusted Death Eater," Hari reminded him. "The bloke shagging you in Hogsmeade alleys is likely  _ not  _ someone on the 'light' side, are they?"

Snape huffed. "When I told you to get a cover story worth having, I did not intend it to be  _ at my expense." _

"Cheer up," Hari said. "I'm the one who settled for  _ you." _

Snape looked ready to murder him. Done pushing his luck, Hari stepped quickly out from between the buildings, back into the street. 

A second later, with a brooding air about him, Snape followed. 


	9. Chapter 9

Despite being a rather respectable twenty seven, Hari lit up like Christmas upon entering Honeydukes. 

“We are looking for a  _ person,”  _ Snape reminded him. “Not sweets.”

“It’s just so lovely in here,” Hari said. “The first time I came in this shop, I was just…”

“Trespassing,” Snape completed. “Do you see Potter?”

Hari took a look around. His own messy hair, Hermione’s bushy curls, and Ron’s ginger mop were all absent in the crowd of students shopping for treats.

“No,” he said. “They must have already left.” 

“They could be anywhere,” Snape muttered.

“No, no, they couldn’t,” Hari said. “It’s m-....it’s  _ his  _ first time here. Openly, anyway. They’ll be exploring, not moving very fast.” 

“Let’s hope that’s the case,” Snape said. He raised his hand up, moving like he was going to grab Hari’s arm, only to falter and drop it abruptly an inch away.

Right. Still sour about their potential rumor, then. 

Instead, they walked  _ without  _ dragging one another, out the door and onto the street, where Hari looked up and down and tried to guess which shop his younger self might have gone to first. 

He caught a glimpse of Madam Puddifoot’s, and shuddered.  _ Not  _ there, thank Merlin. 

“Probably Zonko’s,” he decided. “They’ve got sugar to load up on, now they just need something to do with it.”

“Wonderful,” Snape said, perfectly dry. “More contraband to be confiscated by Filch in the upcoming days.” 

“You,” Hari said, “are  _ no  _ fun.”

He started down the street before Snape could reply - a strategy he was starting to default to.

Hari walked quickly, the crowd of children parting rather easily to make way for the adults, most likely because one of them was  _ Snape,  _ taking long legged strides and looking increasingly annoyed.

As such, they got to the shop rather quickly, and Hari caught sight of red hair through the window. 

“Might be the twins,” Hari said. Then, realizing something else, he breathed out, “Oh,  _ Fred.” _

“Not dead yet,” Snape muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into the store. “Focus.”

The store was  _ loaded  _ with kids, but several of them scattered upon glancing up and catching sight of  _ Snape  _ of all people. 

“Want anything?” Hari asked. “Nose-biting teacup?”

“Find your double,” Snape hissed, “and let’s be  _ done  _ with this.”

Hari looked around. Sure enough, the flair of red from before  _ was  _ the Weasley twins, but pinned between them was Harry, apparently being shown some interesting new trick product. 

“There he is,” Hari said.

He regretted it immediately, as Snape pushed forward, approaching the gathered kids. 

“Potter!” he snapped. “With me.”

Harry looked, wide-eyed and offended, up to Snape. “What? I have permission to be here!”

Hari stepped in quickly, grabbing Snape by the shoulder and hauling him back a step. “We have to cut the trip short,” he said, before Snape could snap at him for the handling. “Something’s come up, and we need you back at the castle.” At Harry’s pinched eyebrows, Hari threw out, “It’s about your godfather.”

Harry blinked, instantly sobering. “Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine,” Hari said. “I’ll explain on the way, but we really need to go.” 

Harry nodded quickly, and Hari sighed with relief, leading him - and Snape, who he was still mostly dragging around - out the door and in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. 

“This,” Snape said, lowly, “is not the passage you took  _ into  _ Hogsmeade, is it?” 

“Can’t reveal  _ all  _ my secrets,” Hari replied. Then, checking to make sure they were being given a wide enough berth by other children, he turned to Harry. “There are Death Eaters in Hogsmeade,” he murmured, lowly. “We think they’re looking for Sirius.”

“Sirius is  _ innocent,”  _ Harry protested.

Hari gave Snape’s shoulder a small shake as he  _ felt  _ the man ready to argue, leading to the potions master reaching up and shoving his hand away, apparently finally getting sick of it. 

“The public story is the only one most people know,” Hari said. “Until his pardon is publicized, they’re going to believe he’s an ally.” 

“So why am I going back?” Harry asked. “Is there something I need to do?”

“Not really,” Hari said. “But if they’re after Sirius, they might see you and think to win themselves favor by taking you out. It is very,  _ very  _ unsafe here, right now.” 

“Even with all the wizards around?” Harry asked. “All the teachers?”

“There’s too many kids to keep track of,” Hari said. “It would be easy enough to lose someone in the crowd.” 

Harry looked from Hari, to Snape, and back again. “Did you come just to get me?”

“Ah, no,” Hari said. “I had some things to do.”

Harry looked to Snape.

“He  _ also  _ had things to do,” Hari said. “Presumably.”

“I,” Snape said, testily, “had an  _ idiot  _ to retrieve.” 

“And what a retrieval,” Hari muttered. 

Snape shot him a murderous look. Hari grinned back, undeterred. 

“That reminds me,” Hari said. “You said my stuff got there, right?”

“You mean your superfluous potions supplies?” Snape asked. “Yes, they arrived.”

He supposed the robes weren’t done yet, given that he’d only ordered them a few hours prior. “They’re not ‘superfluous,’” Hari said. “You’d get testy if I kept stealing from your office.” 

“It is not  _ stealing  _ if they are being used  _ properly,”  _ Snape said.

“Did you  _ want  _ me to use your things?” Hari asked. “Because you were complaining about me even going in your office, let alone taking things out.”

“That has never  _ once  _ stopped you.”

Hari snorted. “It  _ sounds  _ like you’re offended,” he said. “But that would be stupid, because who gets  _ offended  _ by someone buying their own work equipment?” 

Snape shot him a look.

“Oh, for-...you  _ are,”  _ Hari said. “You’re genuinely offended I didn’t want to use your things.”

“I don’t see why it’s  _ necessary.”  _

“Because you’re a selfish prick,” Hari answered, immediately. “And I’m going to butcher the first tries of every potion I do, and I don’t want you to complain to me about all the ingredients I’m wasting, or if I’m damaging the equipment I’m using.”

“You intend to  _ break  _ that equipment?” 

“I don’t  _ intend  _ to,” Hari said. “But I probably will.”

Snape made another strangled sound, which gave Hari the impression that the next thing ‘strangled’ would be  _ him.  _ “You’re incompetant. Why Dumbledore has  _ insisted  _ you work with me-...”

“I won’t be terrible!” Hari protested. “The odds are just that my  _ luck  _ is terrible. With your notes, I should be fine.”

“Seven sheets of notes are not a lifetime of advanced potions study.” 

Movement to his side caught Hari’s attention, and he looked over to see Harry putting space between himself and the bickering adults, looking ready to bolt. 

“Did you enjoy Hogsmeade, Harry?” Hari asked, taking pity. “Or, well, the little bit of it, before we snatched you out. Sorry.”

“For  _ saving his life?”  _ Snape muttered.

Hari ignored him. “I love Hogsmeade,” he said. “I love most wizarding shop streets, actually. Nothing like a store full of magic.”

“I like them, too,” Harry agreed. “I grew up with Muggles, though, so it’s all new to me.”

“Only shop I don’t recommend is the tea shop,” Hari said, because he could at least save himself  _ that  _ little adventure.

Hopefully, he’d do that by saving Cedric, but... just in case.

“Is it bad?” Harry asked. 

“Not really,” Hari replied. “But it’s haunted by couples on dates, all the time, and they’re usually disgustingly sappy over their meals together, and it’s just awkward.” 

“Have you been, then?”

“Yeah,” Hari said. “Went on a date, once. It was terrible.”

Harry frowned. “Then why did you go?”

“Well, first off, I hadn’t realized she was asking me out until I’d already agreed,” Hari said. “And I didn’t care where we went, or what we did, because I was already going to have to do a couple of other things that day, so it didn’t really matter where I spent an hour in the middle.” 

To his other side, Snape’s face had started to turn exceptionally sour, a vein in his forehead threatening to burst.

“Oh, what is it?” he asked, nudging him. “You don’t want to hear about my terrible date?”

_ “No.” _

“I made her cry,” Hari informed him. “Didn’t mean to, but she did.”

“That’s...awful,” Harry said.

“It was,” Hari agreed. “In my defense, I was still a teenager, and I had other things going on at the time.” He nudged Snape. “You, for instance.”

Snape turned an incredulous look on him. 

“Your lessons,” Hari clarified. “The next one was the one where you threw me out.”

“The one where  _ massively  _ overstepped all proper guides and boundaries to invade my privacy as you wished?” Snape snarled. 

“That’s the one,” Hari replied. “I wasn’t really learning anything, anyway.”

“Because you refused to  _ practice,”  _ Snape said. “Which you continued to fail at, even when Dumbledore assumed the role of your teacher.”

“Well, now it’s all void,” Hari said. “Because I’d only ever need to use it against  _ you.”  _

“Which you can’t do,” Snape said. “I can tear through your mind like  _ tissue.”  _

“And see what?” Hari countered. “You already know everything about me. What am I hiding from  _ you?”  _

Snape looked away, and Hari counted it as a point to himself. 

“You were a Hogwarts student?” Harry asked.

“He was  _ not,”  _ Snape answered, sharply. “He attended Uttembatta.” 

Harry blinked. “What’s that?”

“A school in India,” Hari told him. “I was a dropout, though, so Snape helped me finish up some things.” 

“I thought they snapped your wand if you left school,” Harry said.

“If you’re _ expelled,” _ Hari replied. 

“And expelled without option to transfer,” Snape clarified. “Only wizards who commit major crimes while underage are entirely banned from magic.”

“But can you really just... _ leave  _ school?” Harry asked. “What happens if you do that?”

“Well, I shouldn’t have a job, probably,” Hari said. “I imagine hiring someone with no qualifications is generally frowned upon.”

“The headmaster has personal reference for your ability,” Snape said. “Which, I believe, is the only way you would have been hired, given that your test scores-...”

“Hey,” Hari interrupted him. “I did pretty good, considering everything that happened that year.”

“Test scores?” Harry echoed.

“Fifth year, you take exams,” Hari told him. “O.W.L.s- Ordinary Wizarding Levels. I got  _ good  _ scores, but  _ someone  _ is a perfectionist.” 

“You had full capacity to get more than one O,” Snape said. “You simply failed to take the tests seriously - as you do  _ everything else.”  _

Hari, very pointedly, did not respond to that. “‘O’ is for ‘outstanding,’ and it’s the top score. I got one in my defense test, but the rest of mine were mostly ‘exceeds expectations,’ which is good enough to keep taking those subjects-...”

“Except in  _ my  _ class.”

“But not perfect,” Hari finished, bowling right over Snape. He paused a second, startled, then turned on Snape. “You think I could have gotten more Os?” he asked, incredulous. “Did- did you just say I’m  _ smart?”  _

“You were able to teach yourself defense,” Snape said. “I’m simply stating that, given your other classes had  _ competent  _ teachers, you should have done better.”

“You think I’m clever,” Hari said, grinning. “You really think I’m smart, after all.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I can’t be stupid,” Hari replied. “I’m smart. You just said so.”

“I did  _ not.”  _

Hari looked to his younger self. “He said I’m smart, didn’t he?”

Harry looked, wide-eyed, between them. 

“Ah, nevermind,” Hari said, remembering that for a third year Harry, Snape was still significantly intimidating. 

They reached the Shrieking Shack, and entered it in silence, making for the secret passageway back to the castle. 

“Hopefully, the dementors are finally gone, now,” Hari said. “If I get back, and they’re still guarding Sirius, I’m going to be  _ very  _ angry.” 

“Oh, dear,” Snape said, dryly. “The minister’s worst fear: a strange foreign wizard is cross with him.”

“I  _ should  _ be his worst fear,” Hari said. “I’m all that’s standing between his job and Voldemort.”

Harry looked up at him, eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

“Brilliant, Peverell,” Snape said. “Anything else you’d like to disclose? Remember that Potter is notoriously dreadful with secrets.”

“I am not!” Harry protested. To Hari, he demanded, “What’s Voldemort want with the Minister of Magic?”

“His power,” Hari said. “If he gets a follower in Fudge’s place, then the whole ministry is his to control.” 

“Would the  _ both  _ of you,” Snape hissed, “show the  _ slightest  _ hesitation in shouting out a name most wizards recoil from?”

“I’m not scared of Voldemort,” Harry said, firmly. 

“You should be,” Hari muttered. “Maybe not what he can do to  _ you,  _ but there are plenty of people in the world that don’t have protective spells or twin wands in the way.”

Harry frowned. “Have what?”

“Nevermind,” Hari said. “Talking out my ass again.” Changing the subject, he observed, “I don’t think we’re too far from the castle, now.” 

“We passed under the anti-apparition wards some time ago,” Snape confirmed. 

“You can feel that?” Hari asked, surprised. 

_ “Any  _ wizard can feel that,” Snape told him. “If they’re  _ paying attention.”  _

Hari snorted. “Last time I ask you a question.”

“That would be a miracle,” Snape said. 

“Here’s a question for you,” Hari said. “Do you think that hufflepuff will start spreading rumors on the train, or wait for next year?”

Snape shot him an absolutely scathing look. “Shut.  _ Up.”  _

“If she waits, no one will believe her,” Hari said. “She’s got to lay the groundwork for it today, or everyone will-...”

_ “Peverell,  _ never in my life,” Snape said, “have I regretted saving your life as much as I do right now.”

“You signed up for this,” Hari reminded him. “You waited on me, specifically for this.”

“For your assistance in fixing major oversights, yes,” Snape said.  _ “Not  _ for you to actively ruin my reputation.”

“Your  _ reputation?”  _ Hari exclaimed, caught between offense and laughter. 

Snape glared back.

“What hufflepuff?” Harry asked, looking between them. “What rumor?”

“Did we forget to inform you, Potter?” Snape snarled. “What a terrible oversight.”

Harry’s jaw locked, clearly reigning back his own response. Hari, however, was  _ twenty-seven,  _ and had no reason to bite his own tongue. 

“We got caught-...”

“Peverell,” Snape interrupted, “I will make you  _ regret  _ every waking moment of your life.”

“The half that I don’t already, you mean?” Hari asked. 

“Should it concern me, Peverell, how eager you are to make this into something?”

Hari grimaced, not much liking the turnabout. “But it makes you so angry.”

“And this is a bonus for you, is it?”

“Pretty much,” Hari said. “I have to do  _ something.  _ I’d forgotten what a bastard you were.” 

“You’d  _ forgotten,”  _ Snape echoed, disbelieving. 

“I had you sort of idealized in my head,” Hari said. “The secret savior, protecting me from the shadows for years. The one who really  _ cared.”  _

“Touching,” Snape said, dryly.

“Yep,” Hari agreed. “I even thought about naming my kid after you.”

_ “What  _ child?” Snape snapped. “You’ve had two relationships in your life, and only one of them was capable of producing children.”

“Well, considering I’m pretty sure your track record is a solid  _ one-...”  _

“He saved your life?”

Hari looked down at his younger self, once again startled by the reminder that it was not simply him and Snape, bickering in the tunnel alone. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Several times.”

“The alternative was unacceptable,” Snape muttered.

“Aw,  _ Severus,”  _ Hari cooed.

Snape scowled at him. “And once again, you prove yourself incapable of even a moment of seriousness.” 

“Wait,  _ you  _ were serious?” Hari asked, incredulous, coming to a complete stop in the tunnel. “You really-...?”

_ “Think, Peverell,”  _ Snape hissed, lowly. “Do you think, for a single second, that I did the things I did because I was a  _ good person?”  _

“Yes,” Hari answered, quietly.

Snape stared at him.

“I don’t think you want to be,” Hari said, just as gentle. “But I think you are, really. Deep down, maybe...but it’s there.”

Snape watched him, something unreadable passing over his face, before it flickered into absolute neutrality. 

“We’re wasting time,” he said, turning away, marching off down the passage again.

Snape’s legs were significantly longer than either Hari or his younger self, and so he remained a good few feet in front of them as they continued their trip back to the school.

“...Mister Peverell,” Harry murmured. “You really think he’s not a bad person?”

“Oh, he’s a right bastard, for sure,” Hari replied. “But...no. Fundamentally, at his core, I think he’s a good man.”

“It’s hard to imagine,” Harry muttered, probably more to himself than anything. 

“Yeah, I know,” Hari said. “But Snape-.....From what I gather, he’s never had control in his life. He’s always been doing what someone else wanted. But, see...I was supposed to die. That was it, that was how my life was going to go. It was the plan.”

“But he saved your life,” Harry finished, catching on. “He wouldn’t let you.”

“He wouldn’t,” Hari confirmed. “He let me  _ hate  _ him, let me believe he was the worst- and the whole time, without me knowing, he was there. He was keeping me safe.” He shook his head. “Yeah, he’s a prick, and I’ll fight with him until the day we both bite it for good, but...At the end of the day, I’m certain he’s not a bad person.” 

Harry gave a noncommittal hum, looking to Snape’s back. Hari followed his gaze, and blinked, catching Snape’s curled-in shoulders, the man hunched forward slightly.

_ He heard me,  _ he realized.  _ He heard all of that.  _

Well,  _ let him,  _ Hari figured.

He meant every word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm personally sort of grey on most of the characters of Harry Potter's morality, and don't really believe any of them can be counted as "good people" or "bad people," but Harry/Hari is an optimist


	10. Chapter 10

When they arrived back at the castle, Snape vanished almost immediately, leaving Hari with the impression he was off to sulk for a bit.

Or, perhaps, to finish his patrol of the halls, because he wasn’t really certain that got done  _ before  _ Snape came after him.

“What do I do now?” Harry asked.

Hari hesitated a moment, thinking it over. “They probably haven’t moved Sirius yet,” he said. “We could go see him.” He paused, grimacing. “Actually,  _ you  _ can do that. He doesn’t like  _ me  _ very much.”

“Why not?” Harry asked.

“Because...lots of reasons, actually,” Hari said. “Mostly because the only solid thing he knows about me is that I like Snape, which he can’t understand. And because I’m one of the people telling him you can’t live with him.”

Harry startled. “What? I can’t?”

Hari looked down to him, surprised. “He didn’t tell you..?” He shook his head. “Of course he didn’t. He’s waiting for everyone to forget about it and let him do what he wants.”

“Why can’t I go with Sirius?” Harry asked. 

“You can visit him all you want,” Hari said, “but there is a protection spell on the Dursleys’ house, and you have to stay under its protection, until this is over.”

“‘This’?” Harry echoed. “You mean Voldemort?”

“Yeah,” Hari agreed, relieved that the other him had said it first, as though Snape would crop up out of thin air to scold him if he’d been the one to blurt it out. “We have a plan, more or less, but the end of next year is important. As soon as it’s  _ over,  _ you can do what you want, but my part of the plan needs you spending this summer out of harm’s way.” 

“I’m in harm’s way  _ with  _ the Dursleys,” Harry protested. “My aunt and uncle are horrible.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hari said. “But Voldemort’s worse, and it’s only a month or so.”

“Summer is longer than that,” Harry protested. 

“Yes, but you needn’t spend the  _ whole  _ time there,” Hari said. “I-...Well,  _ you  _ are able to leave, and spend time with friends or whatever suits you.”

“My uncle won’t let me,” Harry said. “He’ll-...”

Hari gestured down the hall. “You have an escaped convict godfather,” he reminded him.  _ “You  _ might not be able to use magic, but there are plenty of older wizards who’d be more than happy to offer you an escort.”

Harry brightened up a little, a spark in his eye that Hari recognized very well. 

Maybe taking credit for the ideas Harry would have had anyway was a bit self-serving, but it would at least keep him from being as mad about things as Sirius was. 

“If nothing else,” Hari said, unable to resist, “Write  _ me.  _ I’ll be here at Hogwarts, but I’ll pop in on your house if a little wand-waving is needed.”

Harry looked like he was repressing a grin. “You won’t get in trouble for that?”

“Ah, only with Snape,” Hari replied. “And I’m in trouble with him all the time, anyway.” 

Footsteps drew Hari’s attention, and for a moment, he was afraid he actually  _ had  _ summoned Snape to nab him by the ear. When he looked, though, it was  _ McGonagall  _ coming for him.

“Mister Potter!”

“Yes?” Both Harry and his older double answered, only for Hari to immediately remember that no one was talking to him.

_ “Mister Potter,”  _ McGonagall repeated, sparing Hari a brief, reproachful look, before turning attention firmly on the younger Harry. “Were you in Hogsmeade? Because I will remind you,  _ no  _ permission slip-...”

“Sirius signed it for me,” Harry defended, quickly. “And Dumbledore said that would be okay.” 

“Sirius?” McGonagall echoed. 

“He’s his godfather,” Hari offered. 

“I am  _ aware,”  _ McGonagall said, tensely. “He has, however, not been properly pardoned, meaning you were given permission to leave the castle by an active criminal.”

“Dumbledore took it,” Harry repeated.

McGonagall huffed, then looked to Hari. “If he has permission, why did you bring him back, then?”

It seemed like a 180, until Hari realized she was trying to poke a hole in their story, still not really believing either of them.

Only a day, and she’d already pegged him as the troublemaker he was. She was  _ good. _

“There were Death Eaters in Hogsmeade,” Hari said.

McGonagall blanched. “Death Eaters?” she hissed. “In  _ Hogsmeade?”  _

“Snape and I ran into them,” Hari said.

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “And what were you two doing in Hogsmeade? I thought you’d both remained at the castle.”

“I went to pick up a few things in Diagon Alley,” Hari said. “And an order I made got delivered, and he came to yell at me for making him pick up my things. Or something.”

“Diagon Alley,” McGonagall repeated. “Did you, by chance, visit  _ Knockturn  _ Alley?” 

“No,” Hari said.  _ “I  _ didn’t bring the Death Eaters, they were looking for Sirius. We just pulled Harry out before any of them noticed he was there, too.” 

She cast a glance around the hall. “And where  _ is  _ Severus?” 

“Pouting,” Hari chirped. 

Her cheek twitched, like she was trying not to smile. “Alright,” she said. “I suppose you two argued over something?” 

“Several things,” Hari confirmed. “It’s about an hour’s walk back from Hogsmeade, and he was mad at me before we even started.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Harry said, looking up at Hari. “What Hufflepuff were you talking about?”

“Dunno,” Hari said. “Didn’t recognize her. Must have been an older student.” 

“You said you got caught at something.”

McGonagall turned a raised eyebrow at him, and Hari’s face burned immediately - it was one thing to make jokes about  _ that  _ to  _ Snape,  _ but he really didn’t know how to go about explaining something like that to  _ McGonagall.  _

“Ah-...a bit of a row,” Hari said, evasively. “Nothing important.”

Harry blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You were talking about-...”

“We talked about a lot of things,” Hari said, voice pitching up slightly. McGonagall’s face was becoming uncomfortably  _ knowing,  _ and as humiliating as her knowing about the rumor would be for  _ him,  _ he knew Snape would outright kill him if it got back to him. “We haven’t talked in a while, we’ve got a lot of old arguments to finish. Nothing interesting at all.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. 

“Are you going to go visit Sirius?” Hari asked, abruptly changing the subject. “You should. Train will leave shortly after everyone gets back, and then they’ll be taking him off somewhere until his retrial.” 

“Right,” Harry said. He looked to McGonagall, who nodded her agreement, thanked Hari, and took off down the hall.

Now alone, McGonagall turned to Hari, lips curled up in a knowing smile.

“He was yelling at me,” Hari defended, weakly. 

“I’m certain,” McGonagall replied. “You two seemed like you had a lot to work out.”

Hari really didn’t like how she made that sound. 

“How did you two meet?” McGonagall asked.

“Ah, Dumbledore sort of threw me at him,” Hari said. “Why?”

“You are the only one I’ve ever seen talk to him the way you do,” McGonagall said. “And most certainly the only one he  _ tolerates  _ it from.”

“Tolerates it?” Hari echoed. “He’s just saving up. He’s going to torture me the entire summer for this, I  _ know  _ he is.” 

“I see,” she said. “Why did he come after you, again?”

“Oh,” Hari said. “I ordered potions ingredients and materials to practice with over the summer. He’s came to tell me that was stupid, and I could have just used his things.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“Well, he probably thought I was spending money I didn’t actually have,” Hari said. “I forgot to tell him about my bank vault. Oh, and I had things delivered, and he probably didn’t like me telling people, ‘Oh, hello, I’m a mysterious new person, I’ll be right here if you need me.’” 

He was  _ also,  _ apparently, pouting because Hari wouldn’t use his things, but there were a limited number of things he could get away with making into rumors, and that was not among them.

“I should’ve gotten him a gift,” Hari said. 

“A gift?” McGonagall echoed.

“Like a dung bomb,” Hari said. “Or some frog-spawn soap.” 

“Ah,” McGonagall said, looking a lot more understanding upon learning he was joking. 

“He’d never know,” Hari said. “He’d throw it out without looking. I could get him anything.” 

“I doubt it,” McGonagall said. “He seems to have an almost compulsive curiosity, with you.”

“Well, he’s heard about everything I’ve done in the past decade, and not gotten to yell at me for any of it,” Hari said. “He’s probably making up for lost time.” 

“In one way or another,” McGonagall agreed. 

“Dinner’s soon, yeah?” Hari asked. “We walked into Honeydukes, for a second, and now I’m ready to eat.” 

“It’s very shortly,” she confirmed. “Would you like to walk with me?” 

“Yes, sure,” Hari agreed, falling into step beside her as they started to walk through the halls. “Will the students be back, yet?” 

“Most likely,” McGonagall said. “They’ll award the House Cup tonight, at the dinner. We host an inter-house competition - did Uttembatta do something similar?” 

“Ah, I’m familiar,” Hari said, evasively. “Slytherin’s going to lose, right? Another thing for Snape to pout about.” 

“He’s used to that one, at least,” McGonagall said, pride in her voice. “Gryffindor’s beat Slytherin out for the cup two years in a row, so far.” 

“Maybe  _ that’s  _ where he went,” Hari said. “To go assign as many last minute Slytherin points as possible. Dock a good hundred or so from Gryffindor for housing a fugitive.” 

“Don’t give him ideas,” McGonagall replied. “He’s certainly taken points for less reasonable things.” 

“I don’t know why-...” Hari started, then stopped. “Nevermind. I know  _ exactly  _ why he took this job, but I think it’s ridiculous Dumbledore even asked him. He hates children.” 

“You know?” McGonagall asked, looking to him. “He’s told you his reason for choosing this job?”

“He took it because Dumbledore asked him to,” Hari said. “So that they could both keep an eye on me.”

“On  _ you?” _

Hari blinked. “Ah…” Backtracking, he tried to correct, “Through, ah, through the Order, I mean. Dumbledore would, ah, only help him if he agreed to teach at Hogwarts, see, so he just sort of got shoved into place.”

“He took a job he despises,” McGonagall said, slowly, “to remain in contact with you?”

“Well, not  _ contact,”  _ Hari said. “I didn’t know he was keeping an eye on me until yesterday. Not that you’d  _ know  _ we hadn’t seen each other, with how quickly he started yelling at me.”

“It does seem to be the preferred method of communication between you two.” 

“His fault, really,” Hari said. “I’m not much for yelling, usually. And I haven’t argued like this since I was a teenager, fighting with-...”

He paused, the mental image of Malfoy bleeding out on a bathroom floor flickering in, then vanishing again, replaced by his confrontation with Snape after Dumbledore’s death.

“Also Snape, actually,” Hari finished, scrapping the first half. “To be fair, though, I had a damn good reason for yelling at him.” 

“Which was?” McGonagall prompted. 

“Thought he was a Death Eater,” Hari replied. “I was one hundred percent certain of it, right up until-....”

“...Until?”

“Ah,” Hari said. “‘Til he explained things to me. Then I thought-...Well, then we didn’t see each other for ten years, so it didn’t really matter what I thought.” He frowned, thinking on it. “I really did think that-...Well, I thought, maybe he didn’t go hating me, after all. Maybe he actually-... Well, maybe I wasn’t an obligation.” 

“You don’t seem to be an obligation to him, now,” McGonagall said. 

“Tell  _ him  _ that,” Hari muttered. “In his view, he’s just gotten a year-long chore to complete.”

“Hall patrols are a chore,” McGonagall said. “He seeks  _ you  _ out deliberately.” 

Hari sighed. “I’m just complaining,” he dismissed. “I think I genuinely pissed him off, earlier, and I don’t really know how-...Actually, I do, but it’s  _ stupid,  _ so I’m having a hard time believing it.” 

A few Hufflepuff students whispering about the potential romance of their most notorious teacher was hardly any worse than the entire third year Gryffindor Defense class seeing him in Neville’s gran’s dress. Especially when the rumor could be actively shot down - you couldn’t undo a sight like that, or keep people from thinking about it. A rumor could be squashed, typically.

...Or, theoretically. Hari had never managed it, but he was sure it was possible. 

“I just keep complaining about Snape, don’t I?” Hari asked, mostly rhetorical. “Haven’t been obsessed like that since I was sixteen. I have other things I could talk about, I promise.” He racked his brain for one. “Quidditch? I love quidditch, I can talk about that.”

“Gryffindor’s won the cup, this year,” McGonagall said.

“Oh?” Hari asked, pretending he hadn’t known that. “You must have a good team.”

“The best,” she agreed. “And an unparalleled seeker - Harry Potter, in fact. Unprecedented skill.”

Hari tried not to preen. “I look forward to watching the games.”

...Except, there wasn’t going to be quidditch at all, for the next year.

Shit.

“Do you play?” McGonagall asked. 

“Ah, I haven’t even been on a broom in years,” Hari said, which was not technically a lie. He’d not been able to fly for any reason other than emergency transportation in ages. In a much more blatant lie, though, he added, “I wasn’t ever particularly good at it.” 

He imagined Snape would be proud of him, for that one - to the extent Snape was ever proud of anything. If Harry had been known for anything, aside from the Voldemort stuff, it had been quidditch. 

“Neither was I,” McGonagall said. “Certainly not competitive material, at least.” 

The arrived, at last, at the doors of the great hall, and pushed through them, and were instantly being ogled by students. 

“I forgot that most haven’t seen you,” McGonagall said. “I wonder if the headmaster will introduce you.”

Hari, however, had a much higher priority, and immediately sought out the Hufflepuff table, scanning the length of it for the girl from Hogsmeade. 

The crowd was far away, though, and he had trouble making out most of the faces. Irate, he reached up to adjust his glasses-

-Only to tap a finger uselessly against his own nose.

_ I never took them off, last night,  _ he realized.  _ Or put them back on.  _

He was seeing fine, though - a pass through death had patched his vision, it seemed. 

_ That’s helpful for hiding, at least.  _

Still, he sort of missed them. Knowing they were absent made his face feel suddenly rather empty. 

He tried to play off his tap as a slight scratch, before dropping his hand, taking a look around at the rest of the children.

Several were turning to each other, whispering back and forth behind their hands, eyes still trained on him, but he couldn’t determine which ones were simply curious and which ones were spreading stories. 

His eyes landed on a familiar mop of frizzy brown hair, and he watched Hermione lean in across the table, toward the Weasley twins. On either side of the empty seat they were likely saving for Harry, Ron and Hermione listened to whatever the twins were saying-

-And then jerked back, eyes wide, looking toward Hari-

-...And then Snape.

“Ah, shit,” Hari breathed. 

“Careful,” McGonagall warned. 

“Sorry,” he said, though he wasn’t really. Snape was going to  _ kill  _ him, for certain. 

Unable to help it, he looked up to the teacher’s table, and faltered mid-step when he met Snape’s eyes across the room, the other man staring at him hard enough to burn holes through the wall behind him. 

He gave a weak smile, and watched Snape sneer, then snatch his eyes away, fixing his gaze firmly on the Slytherin table. 

“I’ve really done it now,” he muttered.

“Done what?” McGonagall asked.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out,” he sighed. “I’ll speak to you after dinner?”

“I’ll be seeing the children to the train,” she said, apologetically. “Later, though, we should chat. I have a few more questions for you, as well.” 

Hari had the feeling he was being interviewed for a position he’d not applied for. “Later, then, Professor.”

“Minerva,” she corrected.

“Right,” Hari said, and then turned on his heel, promptly retreating, dropping into his seat beside Snape. 

“Are you satisfied, now, Peverell?” Snape hissed to him. 

“Are you done pouting?” he shot back. “Are you going to be offended I bought new clothes, as well? Might have stolen all your ties.”

“They’re Slytherin,” Snape said, dryly. 

“What do I care?” Hari asked. “I’m from Uttembatta.” 

“Well, would you look at that,” Snape said, eyeing him. “You might have learned something after all, Peverell.” 

“That,” Hari said, “is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t expect it to become a habit,” Snape told him. “Especially given that I now need to make it  _ abundantly  _ clear how  _ not  _ fond of you I am.”

“So you’re going to lie to all your poor students?” Hari asked, blinking faux-innocently at Snape, just one flutter shy of batting his lashes. 

“I should have stayed dead,” Snape muttered. “Hell would have been preferable.” 

“Maybe this  _ is  _ hell,” Hari suggested. “Trapped in Hogwarts with  _ two  _ of me?”

“The worst nightmare, indeed.”

Down the hall, Dumbledore stood, and both fell silent, along with the rest of the hall. 

Dumbledore went through his speeches, awarding both the quidditch and house cups to Gryffindor, wishing the students all a happy summer, and so on, while Hari watched from the sideline, feeling nostalgic.

Finally, though, Dumbledore reached the end, but instead of prompting everyone to eat, he kept speaking. “And, finally, the last item before we eat: As you can surely see, a staff member for next year has already joined us at Hogwarts, to take on minor duties over the summer in preparation for his new role as Professor Snape’s teaching assistant in the potions classroom. May I introduce Mister Hari Peverell.”

All eyes turned to him, and he watched them, feeling a bit like he was under a microscope. 

Something pinched his wrist, and he jumped slightly, glancing down to watch Snape’s bony fingers move away.

“Stand  _ up,  _ you buffoon,” Snape hissed to him. 

Right. Hari moved to his feet, standing uncomfortably as he was examined by a sea of curious children. 

He very firmly pushed away the part of his mind noting how many people were looking between him and Snape, looking floored. 

Something told him he knew what the conversation on the train back would be.


	11. Chapter 11

Hari returned to his seat, waiting for Dumbledore to signal the start of the feast before talking again. “How long do I have to live?”

“Given your newfound abilities?” Snape said. “We have no way of knowing.” 

Hari hummed, considering. “Maybe they’ll forget before next year.”

“Only to remember immediately upon entering my classroom,” Snape muttered. “Making it impossible to teach them.”

“No class is ignoring you, Snape,” Hari told him. “They don’t actually want to die, I don’t think.” 

“I’m not sure I appreciate the implication.”

“That you’d kill someone for ignoring you?” Hari asked. “Especially in a  _ class?” _

“You ignored me through most of our lessons,” Snape reminded him. 

“I don’t count,” Hari dismissed immediately. “You and I got on better when we ignored each other.” 

“That’s not ‘getting on,’ Peverell.”

“Was for us,” Hari said, simply. “We certainly never got on properly.” 

“We reached a brief understanding,” Snape said.

“For the last thirty seconds we were face-to-face?” Hari asked. 

Snape huffed. “Sixth year,” he said. “You were not intolerable in my defense classes.”

“You were not  _ intolerable  _ either,” Hari said. “You were still a bastard, though.”

Snape picked up a glass, taking a long drink, before offering, “You were biased.” 

“Because you threw me out of your office the year before?” Hari asked. “Or because I finally had reference for a potions teacher who wasn’t incredibly prejudiced against me? Or-...”

“I will  _ remind  _ you,” Snape said, testily, “that I was your favorite person, at the time.” 

_ “You  _ weren’t,” Hari said. “I had you, who was a bastard, and my Prince, who was some ancient teenager preserved in a really nasty potions book.” 

“Your  _ Prince,”  _ Snape echoed, disbelieving. 

“Shut up,” Hari told him, flushing. “You’re the one who came up with it.” 

“I don’t recall calling myself anyone else’s anything.” 

“It was  _ my  _ book,” Hari said. “Why shouldn’t I have called it that?”

“The  _ book  _ was your Prince?”

“Yes,” Hari said, firmly. “I loved my book. I most certainly did  _ not  _ love the bastard who wrote it.”

Snape eyed him sideways. “You did,” he said, “when they were an idealized figure in your own mind.” 

“For a second, there, I thought it might’ve been my dad’s,” Hari told him.

He regretted it instantly. The ghost of a smile that had been threatening Snape’s mouth was only noticed when it vanished completely, his expression turning  _ livid.  _

“Your  _ father,”  _ Snape snarled, “Was an  _ idiot,  _ particularly in potions. He relied on the kindness of your mother to learn anything at all.” 

“Slughorn said she was great at potions,” Hari recalled. An idea occurring to him, he looked to Snape. “Did you teach her?”

Snape blinked, anger dropping away into pure bafflement. “What?”

“I’m not going to sit here and throw compliments at you,” Hari informed him. “You  _ know  _ you’re brilliant at potions. Did you  _ teach  _ her the tricks she used in class?”

“Are you implying you don’t believe she could have done them herself?” Snape asked.

“I’m  _ asking,”  _ Hari said. “Because I don’t  _ know,  _ because  _ certain bastards  _ would never  _ tell me anything.”  _

“Should I have pulled you aside as a child and informed you of the sordid details of what sort of people your parents were?” Snape muttered. Immediately after, though, he answered, “I helped her study. She was brilliant on her own, I only assisted.” 

Hari hummed, sitting back. “I guess I take after my dad.”

“You don’t.”

Hari blinked, startled, looking at Snape. “What?”

“Your potions skill is far above your father’s,” Snape said, not looking at Hari, tone a clear effort for dismissiveness. “You, at least, had the  _ capability  _ to understand, even if you did not properly apply it.” 

“You mean because I had a rubbish teacher?”

Snape eyed him sidelong. “I gave you a compliment.”

Hari could have argued that it was not quite a compliment to tell him he wasn’t entirely useless, but- well. Baby steps. 

“Yes, you did,” he agreed. “Thank you.”

Snape looked out over the students, again, and Hari followed his gaze, scanning the tables. 

A lot of eyes flicked to him, then way again. Others sat on him and made no effort to move, clearly fascinated by this new mystery. 

Hari looked to the Gryffindor table, seeking out familiar faces. 

The twins were hunched together, whispering about something that boded ill for everyone involved. Hermione was talking, body language implying it was a tangent, which Harry and Ron were seemingly enduring entirely due to their lack of attention, because they both kept looking back to the staff table, too. 

A sudden curiosity striking him, he looked to the Slytherin table, scanning for silver hair. 

Draco Malfoy was facing their way, also, squinting at Snape from across the room. 

“Malfoy’s watching you,” Hari told Snape.

“I am aware,” he said. “Most likely, he’s wondering why I am to be working with an unknown wizard.” 

“He might be confused,” Hari said. 

“Because it is so fundamentally ridiculous to suppose I have acquaintances outside of the Dark Lord’s inner circle?” Snape sneered.

Hari shot him an unimpressed look. “Because the Peverells are supposed to be  _ dead.”  _

Snape blinked, but recovered remarkably quickly. “Only in England,” he said. “Draco’s studied pureblood lines, he’ll understand the concept of a distant relation.” 

Hari cast a glance out to the table. “You don’t suppose he could read lips, do you? Knows we’re talking about him?”

“Finally worrying about eavesdroppers, Peverell?”

Hari snorted. “Well, I better be,” he said. “Next year is the start of the twins’ business plan, which means they’ll be extendable ears to worry about, soon.” 

“Right,” Snape sighed. “The Weasleys and their innovations.” 

“They were brilliant,” Hari said. “I always wondered why they didn’t do better in their subjects - they’re experts in charms, they’ve never had problems with potions…”

“Lack of effort, primarily,” Snape said. “They believed themselves above the tedium of education.” 

Hari raised his glass in a mock toast. “Hear, hear.” 

“A belief you shared, I recall,” Snape said. 

“I didn’t,” Hari said. “Or-...actually, I suppose I did. I’m a dropout, after all.”

Snape’s lips pressed into a thin line, looking like he was biting something back.

“What?” Hari asked. “If you’re scared to ask it, it’s got to be bad.”

“It is a mere curiosity,” Snape said. “The students whose studies were interrupted by the war were offered an additional year at Hogwarts.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hari said.

“You didn’t take it.”

“Nope,” Hari confirmed. “Didn’t want an ‘eighth’ year.”

“Didn’t consider it necessary, did you?” Snape jeered. 

“Not that,” Hari said. “It’s just-...Well. After everything that happened, could  _ you  _ have sat in classes for a year? Worried about homework and house points, instead of running for your life? Could you go back to that?”

He expected Snape to reply something snarky. Instead, though, the man let out a sigh, and offered, “No, I suppose not.” 

They sat in silence a moment, though it was notably less hostile than the one from lunch.

“The students leave, after the feast,” Snape reminded him. “The castle will be staff only. I will expect you to finish reviewing my potions notes as quickly as possible.” 

“Right, I will,” Hari agreed. “Do you want me to learn them all  _ before?  _ I could just learn them as they come up.”

“I had not intended a linear learning path,” Snape said. “But instead to group potions by purpose and complexity.”

“Or,” Hari said, “you could take them a year at a time. So I can  _ learn.”  _

“You’d learn either way,” Snape said. “But, fine. In that case, memorize the first year potions notes. You have a day.”

“A  _ day?”  _

“You had a week for seven years,” Snape pointed out. “A day for one is perfectly reasonable.”

“You want me to learn a year’s worth of potions overnight?”

“You should already know them,” Snape reminded him. “This was actually a class you  _ attended.  _ All I need is for you to reach competency  _ beyond  _ that of a sixth year student.”

“Alright, alright,” Hari sighed. “I’ll come by your office tomorrow.”

“We will begin after lunch,” Snape said. 

“That’s only a few hours,” Hari pointed out. “You keep shortening my time frame.”

“If you cannot learn the preparation of a cure for boils in ten hours, Peverell, you will be a hopeless potions teacher.”

“I’m not going to  _ be  _ a teacher,” Hari said. “I’m just supposed to keep you from strangling innocent Gryffindors.” 

“You’re meant to assist me in my teaching duties,” Snape corrected. “If I were to assign you reports to grade, and you did not know at which step in a potion’s brewing one would need to add a certain ingredient, you would grade those essays incorrectly.” 

“If I don’t know it, then they shouldn’t, either,” Harry said. “Because that means it hasn’t been taught.” 

“You are  _ determined  _ to be contrary,” Snape accused. 

“Just a bit,” Hari admitted. 

Snape cast a glance down the table. “You’ve spoken to Minerva again, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, we came in together,” Hari confirmed. “Why?”

Snape turned away, face twisted in disgust. “She’s  _ staring.”  _

“McGonagall?” Hari turned, incredulous, only for Snape to hook a foot around the leg of his chair, dragging it a half inch to one side to stop him from looking. _ “What?!  _ That was probably more obvious than me taking a look.” 

“Your first instinct on finding out you’re being watched should not be  _ confrontation.”  _

“It’s worked for me so far,” Hari countered. 

“What’s worked for you is sheer dumb luck,” Snape told him. “And the kindness of your benefactors.”

“Do you mean Dumbledore?” Hari asked. “Or the mysterious ‘death’ I’m supposedly-...”

“Shut  _ up,  _ for  _ once _ in your life,” Snape hissed. 

“Why?” Hari gestured around them. “Anyone who thought about listening in tuned out ages ago. Other people don’t just sit here and listen to you fuss at me.” 

_ “Fuss?”  _ Snape echoed. “Like a  _ housewife?”  _

“That’s offensive to housewives,” Hari told him. “You’re much worse.” 

Snape narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. “How would you know?” 

Hari let him have that, for about half a second, before coming up with the rebuttal, “Molly Weasley.” 

“In  _ what  _ world,” Snape said, “have I become more contrary than  _ Molly Weasley?”  _

“In this one,” Hari said. “Whichever one it is. Is our time still around, somewhere? Did we destroy that world, coming to this?”

“There is only one world, as far as I’m aware,” Snape said. “But I don’t know. Every study of death and time and the universe as a whole is either entirely theoretical, or heavily locked away in the ministry’s Department of Mysteries.” 

“We should break in,” Hari said. “Without Sirius, this time.” 

“Do you intend to shatter priceless artifacts?” Snape asked. “Perhaps attempt to use an unforgivable curse on a Death Eater?”

“You know about that?”

“I know _ everything, _ Po-....Peverell.”

“That reminds me,” he said. “I didn’t need to _ break into _ Gringotts earlier, but I did go.” 

“I wondered how you had obtained the funding for an entire office worth of potions materials,” Snape said. “You didn’t access the Potter vault, did you?”

“Nope,” Hari said. “They tested my wand, looked at my necklace, and then let me into the Peverell vault.” 

Snape turned incredulous eyes on him. “The  _ Peverell  _ vault?”

“It’s full of ‘old money,’ according to the goblin,” Hari told him. “Big gold plates and such. There’s...a  _ lot.”  _

“Of course,” Snape breathed. “Heaven forbid you go a day in any world without being ridiculously wealthy.” 

“It’s good, though, right?” Hari said. “That they validated the whole ‘Peverell’ thing?”

“For your alibi, it’s excellent,” Snape allowed. “For remaining undetected, it could be a problem.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Goblins,” Snape said, sternly, “are  _ highly  _ self-motivated. Knowing that a Peverell is alive and claiming his inheritance in London’s underground will be information sold to the highest bidder. You are likely going to be sought out in the upcoming months by distant ‘relations’ looking to win your favor - and your gold.” 

“A bunch of pureblood assholes are going to try and become my best friend?” Hari translated. “I’ll just let you run them all off, shall I?”

“A connection to me means you will be particularly sought, most likely, by the Malfoys,” Snape pointed out. “To whom there is a currently a rumor threatening circulation that  _ you  _ had something to do with his escaping ministry custody.” 

“Right,” Hari said. “Because you yelled at me in the hallway.” 

Snape glared at him. “That  _ isn’t-...” _

“Well, I’m not worried about it,” Hari said. “I implied that I kept him out of Azkaban. Well, I could definitely prove he was a Death Eater, if I had to, but I’m not going to. That counts, right? Not a lie.”

“The mental gymnastics it takes to follow your logic,” Snape muttered. 

“What’s confusing about that?” Hari asked. “I took a lie I’d told on accident and made it true, that’s all.” 

“That is not how  _ lies  _ tend to work.”

“Is for me,” Hari said, firmly. “Easier to keep track of stuff I actually know.” 

“Right,” Snape said. He gestured out into the crowd of students. “You may want to rethink that, if you remember the particular  _ lie  _ of yours that is circulating.” 

“Okay, first off,” Hari said, “that wasn’t  _ my  _ lie. That was all you.”

“I  _ simply-...”  _

“Second,” Hari pressed on, “No one’s really going to believe that, anyway.”

Snape turned narrow eyes on him. 

“Oh, come on, Snape,” Hari said. “You’ve met yourself, yes? No one’s going to believe you’re  _ genuinely  _ doing anything like that.”

“Like  _ what?”  _

Hari blinked, taking in the fierce, angry squint. 

“...You’re offended,” he realized. 

Snape drew back a fraction.

It was just such a ridiculous concept, Hari couldn’t even help it - he laughed. 

In a fluid motion that drew all eyes to them, Snape had pushed his chair back, getting to his feet. 

“Wait, hold on,” Hari said, sitting up a bit, reaching out to Snape. 

“Tomorrow, after lunch, Peverell,” Snape snapped. “Try not to spread any more fallacies until then.”

He stormed off, Hari left watching him go.

“Well, he seemed happy,” Hagrid commented in a mumur. 

Hari let out a sigh, slumping in his seat. 

He hadn’t meant it in a  _ mean  _ way. It wasn’t- he supposed it probably sounded like Snape was beyond the realm of possibility to be interested  _ in,  _ rather than what Hari actually meant, which was that Snape was very loud about hating everyone around him, Hari in particular, and no one would buy that he was the type to quietly pine for a decade. 

And it was so  _ ridiculous  _ to imagine Snape getting genuinely upset that Hari might have meant the opposite, like his former student’s throwaway opinion should have mattered to him at all. Snape had  _ delighted  _ in Hari taking an opposing position to him in the past, absolutely relishing the opportunity to tear him apart for his opinions. Hari, in turn,  _ expected  _ those arguments, and for the most part, he got them. 

A couple of things, though, now, he’d gone for a fight and come up empty, faced with a more bitter, tragic sort of Snape. 

It seemed - baffling a concept as it was - that Snape was, in fact, considering him a peer, and was getting increasingly frustrated by Hari not accepting that. 

In Hari’s defense, though, he was  _ treated  _ as a burden that had been thrust upon Snape, and that’s how he’d imagined he was viewed. 

To think he was offending Snape because someone, deep down, the man  _ respected  _ him-...

It was just unthinkable, really. He had to be wrong. 

He looked down the table, and caught McGonagall’s eye. She raised a thin eyebrow at him, giving him a look the likes of which spelt  _ fifty points from Gryffindor  _ for his student days, but now just made him sink a fraction deeper into his chair. 

It wasn’t his fault that Snape was being weird. 

It definitely wasn’t.

It  _ wasn’t  _ his job to go fix it, either. 

He didn’t need to apologize.

He pushed his chair back, getting to his feet.

_ Going back to my  _ own  _ room,  _ he told himself, making for the door out of the hall.  _ Not to apologize, because I didn’t do anything. _

Except he did. 

_ I’m going to fucking apologize, aren’t I? _

He groaned to himself, leaving the great hall. 

_ I’m going to fucking apologize.  _


	12. Chapter 12

Harry watched Peverell leave, following Snape out, a weird look on his face. 

“What are they doing?” Harry asked, looking to Hermione. “They’re up to something.”

Hermione looked very close to rolling her eyes. “They’re  _ arguing,  _ Harry,” she said. “Mr. Peverell must’ve said something that upset Snape, if he stormed out like that.” 

“That’s just normal Snape,” Ron said. “He’s always an ass like that.”

Hermione reached around Harry to smack Ron’s shoulder. “He’s still a _ teacher, _ Ron.” 

“Ouch,” he leaned away from her, rubbing his arm. “It’s just  _ Snape.”  _

“Talking about our favorite snake?” Fred said, across the table, drawing their attention up to him and George.

“Snape,” Ron said. 

“I don’t care about Snape,” Harry interrupted. “I want to know what Peverell is doing.” 

“Check the map,” George suggested. 

That was actually a rather brilliant idea, he figured, and so he dug out the Marauder's Map, quietly activating it and spreading it out before them on the table. 

“Well, Snape’s there,” Ron said, poking the map. “Dunno where he’s going, though. The map ends that way, doesn’t it?”

“Not everything’s on it,” George reminded them. 

“We never found the teachers’ rooms,” Fred added. “The entrance has something to do with the staff room, but that’s as far as we’ve got.” 

Harry watched Snape’s footsteps make their way down the halls, just past the staff room- and then vanish, abruptly, from the paper entirely. 

“He’s gone,” Harry told them. “But I don’t see Peverell.”

Hermione and Ron both leaned in to look, and Fred got up on his elbows on the table, leaning to peer over at it as well.

“He was right behind Snape,” Fred said. “Ought to come around that corner any second now.”

There was nothing, though. Not so much as a dot in the hall with the staff room, nor any of the halls on the way to it. In fact, scanning the few labels that were still outside the great hall, he didn’t see a single one that could have been Hari Peverell. He could see Filch, could see Mrs. Norris, but there were no new names, or unrecognized marks. 

“He’s not here,” Harry said.

“That’s not possible,” George said, leaning across the table like his brother. “He’s got to be there.”

“Even if he isn’t  _ now, _ he ought to have been,” Fred said. “At least in the hallway. Unless…”

Fred looked sideways, at George, who met his gaze and broke into a grin. 

“What?” Harry asked, looking between them. “Unless what?”

“It would  _ seem,”  _ Fred said, “that Peverell knows a secret passage that  _ we  _ don’t know.” 

Harry looked back at the map. “He does?”

“He’s got to,” George said. “The only time you’re hidden on the map is if you’re not in a spot it knows. If he vanished, he went somewhere that isn’t marked, and there’s no way he made it all the way back to the teachers’ rooms without crossing a single marked hallway  _ unless  _ he knows a way straight there.” 

"How would Peverell know a secret passage that  _ you  _ don't?" Ron asked. 

"Now that," Fred said, "is a good question."

  
  
  
  
  
  


Abequa eyed him judgmentally from her frame. 

"Yes, I know, I'm a twat," Hari told her, pulling his wand out to tap it against the painting. "Can you let me go apologize, please?" 

At her hooves, blue hyacinths sprouted up. 

"Apology flowers, as well?" Hari guessed. 

She glared, silent as ever. 

"You're a fun one," Hari muttered, letting the portrait swing aside to climb the stairs behind it. If he was going to convince someone surly and silent to talk to him, there was someone else well ahead of her in line. 

At the top of the stairs, Hari went to scan the doors, wondering where Snape’s would be in line, only to find it right at the front. 

He supposed arranging to fit his desire to return back to his room was, in fact, like the Room of Requirement, and simply adapted to his current goal. 

He raised a hand, rapping his knuckles against the door lightly.

He stood there, a moment, waiting in silence, but there was no response from the other side. 

He could hear footsteps on the staircase, and that spurred him on, knocking more firmly. “Snape?” he called. “I need to talk to you.” 

Someone emerged from behind him, at the same time the door swung open. 

_ “What,  _ Peverell?” Snape asked, glaring at him from the doorway. “It’s been  _ minutes,  _ surely you’ve not already completed your notes?”

Hari sighed. “Will you let me apologize to you, you great prick?” 

Snape drew up short. “Apologize?” 

“I didn’t mean to be an ass about it,” he said. “And I probably owe you some other apologies, while I’m at it. Like, the day-...”

“Good evening, Minerva,” Snape said, suddenly, looking up over Hari’s shoulder.

Hari turned to look, seeing McGonagall eyeing them. 

“You seemed upset on leaving the Great Hall, Severus,” McGonagall said. “I simply wanted to check nothing was awry. I see I had no need to worry- goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight,” Snape returned, waiting for McGonagall to head down two doors and dip into her own apartment, before grabbing Hari by the arm and hauling him backward into Snape’s. 

“Alright,  _ she  _ might believe it,” Hari said.

“You think?” Snape snapped. “Now. You want to talk like adults at last, Potter?” 

“Peverell,” Hari corrected. 

“It doesn’t  _ matter  _ what your name is,” Snape said, “if you insist on throwing out every other bit of plausible deniabilty we’ve awarded you so far.” 

“No one’s going to put it all together properly,” Hari said. “It just doesn’t make any sense. At the very worst, I’m your Death Eater ex-boyfriend from India.” 

Snape made a disgusted noise. “And  _ why,  _ exactly, is  _ that  _ the impression you want to give?”

“It’s not!” Hari defended. “But it’s what everyone’s thinking, anyway, and I learned in  _ second year  _ that squashing a rumor is absolutely impossible, and it just gets worse if you try. If they want to give me a ridiculous alibi-...”

Snape scowled, and Hari cut off, huffing out a breath. 

“And I’ve done it again,” he said. “That’s-...I just mean, you can’t  _ stand  _ me, Snape,” Hari said. “I know that, you know that, everyone with  _ eyes  _ ought to know that, let alone  _ ears  _ to hear you constantly yelling at me. The  _ ridiculous  _ part is the idea that you’d actively  _ want  _ me around, for any reason, let alone…. _ that.”  _

“I’ve brought an unknown wizard into Hogwarts,” Snape said. “I’ve actively gone against my own stances on multiple issues to make your assignment here guaranteed, I’ve opened my own classroom and office to you, I spend half the day at your side - you think it’s  _ ridiculous  _ that someone would assume you had to be important?” 

Hari faltered. “Well,” he said. “...You didn’t  _ mean  _ to do those things. Dumbledore-...”

“Albus Dumbledore has given me more instructions in my lifetime than I have had days alive,” Snape said. “But ultimately, I have never done a  _ single  _ thing I did not agree was for the best.” 

Hari blinked. “You...didn’t?”

“Did you believe I would have?”

Hari snorted. “Did I believe you stuck your neck out for me because you actually thought I was good for something?” Hari said. “No. I thought you were just paying back a debt. Good to know that  _ two  _ of the people I spent my adult life looking up to were playing their game of wizard’s chess  _ together,  _ after all.”

“It was not  _ strategy,  _ Potter,” Snape said. 

“Peverell,” Hari snapped back. Immediately, though, he forced himself to relax, taking a deep breath. “But, you’re right, regardless. You’ve done a lot for me, and I’ve been awful about it.” Voice dipping to something softer, he murmured, “You  _ died  _ for me.” 

“One among hundreds,” Snape said, though it lacked his usual venom. “Not for  _ you -  _ for the wizarding world as a whole.” 

“No,” Hari said. “You knew he had to kill me. You could have just let him. But...you showed me everything. You let me in, let me  _ know  _ what had been going on without my notice for years. You wanted me to understand.” 

“I wanted you to be prepared,” Snape said.

“You wanted me to forgive you,” Hari countered.

Snape tipped his chin up a bit. “I don’t need  _ forgiveness.” _

“You don’t,” Hari agreed. “But you’ve got it.” 

They stared at each other, a long moment. 

“That’s all I wanted to say, really,” Hari said. “That-...I’m sorry this has been such a mess, and I keep mucking it up, but I really do think we can pull this off together if we try.” 

“I assume you mean defeating the Dark Lord,” Snape said, dryly, “and not starting a new gossip column in  _ Witch Weekly.”  _

“Oh, I can do both,” Hari said. “That would at least keep some of the eyes off baby me next year.” 

“Right,” Snape said. “Your unfortunate fixation with attracting press.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Hari said. “I was just trying to survive. Everyone just got nosy.”

“And what is your plan for that, this year?” Snape asked. “Do you intend to intercept Crouch in planting your name?” 

“...No,” Hari admitted. “I’m going to let him do it.”

Snape huffed. “Of course,” he said. “Never deprive yourself-...”

“It’s for Cedric,” Hari interrupted, tone hard. “If I leave things how they were, I know exactly where Voldemort will be, and when. All I have to do is be the one who touches the cup.”

“And  _ how  _ do you intend to do that?” Snape asked. 

Hari actually had a plan for that, already. “Polyjuice.”

Snape frowned. “You’re going to win the competition for your younger self?”

“No,” Hari said. “I’m going to win it for Cedric.”

Snape’s eyes widened. “You will be  _ killed,”  _ he hissed. “The Dark Lord will not spare a child, and no spell counters the killing curse.” 

“I’ve countered it several times,” Hari argued. “And apparently, killing me doesn’t work, either.”

“You cannot count on that to work a second time,” Snape said. 

“I don’t,” Hari admitted. “I intend to clear out the horcruxes before that. Even if I’m killed there, even if he saw through me enough to take my blood and make himself a body, he’ll be mortal. He can be killed.”

“You want to buy time with your own _ life?”  _

“If I have to,” Hari confirmed. “You did it, too, remember?” 

“That-...” Snape scowled. “That isn’t the same, Potter.”

“Peverell.” 

_ “Fuck  _ your name change, Harry - I did not sit by for ten years, watching you, to see you kill yourself  _ twice!” _

Hari blinked, taken aback. “I-...”

“You have a year,” Snape told him, sternly. “Over the course of it, I expect you to come up with a  _ better  _ plan.” 

“You’re not my teacher, anymore,” Hari told him.

“Aren’t I?” he countered. “We do begin lessons tomorrow.” 

Hari sighed. “You know, Snape, one could almost mistake you for caring about me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Snape muttered. “With my luck, my life is tied to yours. I don’t intend to suffer another reset.” 

“That’s not the argument you just made.”

“Peverell,” Snape said, through gritted teeth. “Are you  _ done?” _

“I think we’re bonding, Snape,” Hari said. “Is this the part where we-..?”

“Get out of my apartment, you idiot,” Snape barked at him. “I will see you at a more reasonable hour, when you’ve had time to recover from your latest bout of chronic stupidity.” 

“Breakfast, then,” Hari said, stepping back toward the door. “Goodnight, Snape.”

He received an irate grunt in response, and let himself back into the hall, chuckling to himself. 

The doors had shifted around again, back to the same layout from the night before, which meant Hari simply had to walk one door down to go back to bed.

Entering his own apartment, he paused in the entryway, door softly shutting behind him, and reviewed his conversation with Snape. 

_ I don’t know if we actually agreed to anything,  _ Hari realized.  _ But at least we’re on the same page. _

And, most importantly, he’d said the things he’d needed to say to Snape, in order to ensure that the bad blood between them was petty at worst. Snape could be annoyed with him forever, for all Hari cared - it was actually  _ entertaining,  _ to a degree - but genuine anger had to be soothed. 

Hari had had lifetimes’ worth of anger, and he was beyond tired of it.

  
  
  
  


Minerva changed into nightclothes, pulled on a dressing gown, and made a pot of tea. Then, waiting by the door, she waited for the sounds of doors that meant Peverell was leaving Snape’s. 

Or, at least, he was  _ hopefully  _ leaving. With that in mind, she made sure to send her Patronus with the message  _ only  _ ask if Snape was alone. 

Then, she sat in her armchair, and waited. 

It only took a minute or so, before the knock came. 

“Come in, Severus,” she called. 

He opened her door, stepping in with a wary expression. “I imagined you would not withhold your curiosity much longer,” he said. “Though I can’t imagine you will get much more information from me than Peverell has already so carelessly given up.” 

Minerva gestured to her couch, and Severus came around to take the seat, accepting a teacup when she offered it.

“Go on, then,” Severus said. “Ask me.” 

“Who  _ is  _ he, Severus?” Minerva asked. 

Severus sighed. “An idiot,” he said, almost resigned. “But, unfortunately, a rather powerful one, who the headmaster has deemed important-...”

“Don’t give me that,” Minerva said. “I know what his story is, Severus. I want to know why this man has such an immediate, intense effect on you.” 

Severus scowled, looking down into his cup. “Peverell…” he murmured, before stopping, hesitating, eyeing the contents of his teacup as though it held some secret. 

“Yes?” Minerva prompted.

“I...made choices, a long time ago,” Severus said, slowly. “I was given a task, and I was asked to do it, without letting anyone know. I was to move in absolute secrecy, and not deviate in the slightest.” 

“And I take it you faltered?” Minerva asked. 

“At the last moment, I was faced with him,” Severus said, raising his eyes to Minerva’s. “And I-...I knew  _ why  _ I’d done everything I had, but it wasn’t enough for me to know.  _ He  _ had to. He had to understand, why I’d-...What it all had been  _ for.”  _

“I see,” Minerva said.

“No, you don’t,” Severus sighed, setting his cup down. “I’m very  _ deliberately  _ not telling you anything of use, so stop pretending I’m opening up. What I’m telling you is what you want to know - how did he upset me tonight? And the answer is that he rightly called out my actions, my general  _ personality,  _ and reminded me of the history behind it. And then, he came to speak to me in my apartment, and he told me he  _ forgave  _ me.”

Minerva’s brows pinched. “Is that a bad thing?” she asked, confused. “Did you actually do something wrong?” 

“...I did,” Severus admitted, quietly. “I’ve done many things I’ll regret forever, and others that I can recover from. But Peverell has seen them all. And  _ that  _ is what you are witnessing, between us - Peverell and I have an understanding that few others could reach. Each of us knows, at the core, what sort of person the other is. And that has power.” 

Minerva hummed, watching him. 

“The scars,” she said, suddenly. “Were they one of your mistakes?”

Severus’s face looked suddenly tired. “Only indirectly,” he said. “I left him to a fight by himself, the last time I saw him, and the task I gave him when we parted damaged him greatly.” 

“He chased Death Eaters,” Minerva said. “You  _ were  _ one. Was it-...?”

“Was I giving him information?” Severus said. “I was an Order spy, it’s true. Peverell, though - almost the opposite.”

Minerva frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I did not feed information to Peverell,” Severus told her. “I fed information to the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord, that kept them from noticing the moves he made against them.”

“You risked your life to keep him alive.”

“Something he did not much appreciate,” Severus said, “given that he threw himself headfirst into danger again at any opportunity. He brushed death once and refused to accept that it wasn’t for him. Survivor's guilt, perhaps - many people he cared for died, back then.” 

“But he  _ was  _ important to you,” Minerva said, sitting up, chasing the thread. “Why?”

Severus gave her a flat, unimpressed look. “Because I’m an idiot, as well,” he said. “And that’s all you’re getting.”

He sat his teacup aside, still entirely untouched, and got to his feet. 

“There is nothing interesting to be found down that rabbit hole, Minerva,” Severus told her. “Peverell may have  _ ‘forgiven’  _ me, but he is far from fond of me.” 

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. “And you?”

“Goodnight, Minerva,” Severus said, letting himself out of her apartment. 

She sat in her chair, breathing in the scent of cooling tea. 

_ Nothing interesting,  _ indeed. 


	13. Chapter 13

Hari drug himself out of bed rather reluctantly in the morning, and found himself in front of his bathroom mirror, looking at himself. Like he’d noticed the evening before, his glasses were absent. His eyes shone the same bright green as ever, which was likely bad for maintaining cover, but it was too late to fix it. 

The scarring on the side of his face, though, was what  _ really  _ drew his attention. He hadn’t gotten a proper look at it, in Snape’s conjured mirror in the dark, but now he could see it crawling across his face like a living thing, reaching out in tendrils across his nose, forehead, chin, pulling at one corner of his mouth and somehow, miraculously, coated the skin around one eye, despite the eye itself being undamaged. 

“You bastard,” Hari murmured, reaching up to gently feel the interwoven scars. “That was an acid jinx, wasn’t it?” 

A nasty thing to throw at someone, even if you  _ were  _ intending to kill them afterward. He’d really done it, after all. 

He spread his fingers, smooshing the scarred skin around to examine its every crease, only to pause as something glinted on his hand. 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” he breathed, looking to his hand.

To his relief, Gaunt’s ring didn’t sit there. There  _ was  _ a ring, but it was a much more subtle thing - a green stone, about the size and color of a typical emerald, with a silver snake coiled around it. 

“Still very Slytherin,” he muttered, critically. “Gonna look like I’ve gone and married Snape.” 

He said it as a joke, but immediately grimaced, wondering what the chances were that they would avoid that exact rumor. 

A glance back up to the mirror confirmed that the choker was still around his neck, as well, and despite him having walked right past it draped over a chair, his cloak was hanging from his shoulders. 

Whatever type of creature ‘Death’ was, they were determined for Hari to look like some dark wizard. 

He tapped his fingers on the charm against his throat.

There had to be something to it, besides just the symbol. While he supposed it could have been like a collar, a brand showing who he was and what he was meant to be, it made more sense for it to have some sort of ability. 

It had won over the goblin at the bank, though, so it wasn’t entirely terrible. He’d have to deal with any Grindelwald supporters as they came, but for now, he would just wear it. 

And the ring.

And the cloak. 

And he couldn’t get rid of the wand, either.

“Whatever sort of being you are,” Hari muttered to the mirror, “I hope you’re having a good laugh, right about now.”

He looked himself over again, checking for any other changes. Underneath the scars, his face shape looked the same, though, and so he dismissed himself, going to set about his day.

He’d need to read his potions notes from Snape, that morning, and read over the first years’ potions book, as well. 

And then, after lunch, he’d start lessons. 

His last lessons from Snape had been a mix of his Defense lessons, and the potions information he stole from Snape’s old schoolbook. 

The former were, admittedly, much better than the five years of potions lessons he’d endured from the man, if only because it was a subject he was actually rather good at. The latter…

...Well, he’d already given plenty on his opinion of the latter. 

With those in mind, it was  _ almost  _ in him to believe that the lessons would not be awful.

The last  _ private  _ lessons they’d had, though, had resulted in Hari so firmly crossing the line between them that, for a moment, he had genuinely expected some retaliation for it. 

In fact, thinking back, he was still somewhat surprised nothing had come of it. Maybe Snape had considered cutting off their potentially crucial Occlumency lessons to be dramatic enough payback on its own. Maybe he was simply too shaken. 

_ That  _ sounded a little ridiculous, actually. 

It was much more likely that Snape just had priorities, and it suited him more to ignore Hari and be ignored in return, as they had managed most of their last year together. 

Ugh, ‘together’ - even innocent sentences he  _ knew  _ the meanings of were starting to sound incriminating to him, under the lens of an outsider’s point of view. The rumor had gone from funny to very,  _ very  _ unfunny, very quickly, the second one of McGonagall’s stern brows quirked up in his direction. 

He got the feeling that he interrogation of him was the first step in a long, painful process, where she vetted him as worthy or undeserving for a prominent place at the school, in the Order, and with the professors personally. 

It was rather funny to imagine Snape’s reaction, though, if Hari told him that he was being  _ protected.  _

From  _ Hari. _

Hari couldn’t even block the man’s legilimency. 

Looking in the mirror again, he ran his fingers over the choker. The band of it was a strange black leather on the outside, and an unknown material so smooth on the inside that he could mostly understand how he never noticed it appearing. Twisting the band around in the mirror, he got a glimpse of a similar sheen to his cloak, before he felt oddly compelled to look away, and released it, hiding the intrigue behind that black leather. 

He couldn’t imagine what sort of animal the leather came from - it did not feel like the type of tanned hide that was made into sturdy workboots for men like Vernon Dursley to prance about in, pretending they ever did proper labor, nor the sort of cheap worn-out working clothes that  _ actual  _ laborers dressed in. 

Hari, himself, had only ever owned fake leather things, having never bothered to invest in anything more lasting than a pair of suede gardening gloves, which he bought more to spite the memory of Petunia Dursley sending him out bare-handed than to actually  _ use  _ for anything. 

Leather around his neck, luxurious cloth spilling over his shoulders, a  _ Slytherin  _ ring - really, if this entity was going to dress him, he could have at least picked something Hari would have liked to wear.

The  _ good  _ part of the outfit, though, was  _ under  _ the cloak. Hari’s embroidered shirt had turned out to actually be a kurta, and it made him feel for once as though he had some level more culture than what he’d absorbed via insults through a cupboard door. 

Madam Malkin had apparently liked the look of it, too, because she’d made most of his clothes in similar styles - though, thankfully, in a few different colors. 

Black was nice, but ‘Master of Death’ or regular Harry Potter, he didn’t feel much like wandering around dressed like a dementor. 

Clothes in mind, he returned to his room, removing the cloak once again to change into some proper clothes, as the entity haunting him seemed to have missed that humans were not meant to attend a communal breakfast in nightclothes. 

The first of the not-quite-kurta shirts from his order was a deep, rich green, and Hari pushed it immediately aside, cursing the universe as a whole for whatever was so desperately forcing Slytherin onto him. The one behind it was, instead, a similarly lavish purple, with neat gold thread, and while a bit gaudy, he imagined Dumbledore, at least, would like it. 

He paused, though, before he put it on, staring down at the fabric in his hands. 

_ All I’m doing today is working with Snape,  _ he told himself.  _ Why am I putting thought into this? _

He was simply thrown by his sudden change in appearance, he told himself, finishing getting dressed. 

That was all.

  
  
  
  
  


The great hall had been entirely stripped, when Hari entered it, replaced with a single long table, around which the staff of Hogwarts sat together alone. 

The chairs were on both sides of the table, for once, and the order seemed to have been lost in the change, leaving the teachers sitting in much different positions than they usually did. The chaos threw Hari a second, even though he’d only attended two meals at the staff table, but across from McGonagall were two empty chairs, and he took one of them, eyeing the other a moment before asking McGonagall, “Where’s Snape?”

“I imagined he’d arrive with you,” McGonagall said. 

Hari very,  _ very  _ firmly did not consider what she meant by that. “I haven’t seen him.” He frowned, thinking. “He said he’d see me after lunch, though, so he might not be intending to come down for meals.”

The doors of the hall opened, and for a second, Hari thought he’d gotten it wrong, and Snape  _ had  _ shown. Instead, though, when he looked up, there was someone much worse.

“Sybill,” McGonagall greeted. “Rare for you to join us.” 

“I had learned from my glimpses beyond of a new arrival,” Trelawney said, importantly, crossing the room. Her bug eyes fixed on Hari, and she stopped dead, a few steps from the table.

_ Please don’t freak out,  _ Hari had a moment to think, watching her. 

To his relief, though, Trelawney didn’t instantly spout off anything about him dying horribly. Instead, she rounded the table, rushing up to take the seat beside him, catching his hands into her own and dragging them forward to eye the palms. 

“Hmm...Yes…” She looked up to him. “You’ve started over,” she said. “This is a second life for you.”

“Ah...yes?” Hari said, hesitantly, unsure if it was safe to agree. “I sort of...ruined some things, before. I’d like to do better going forward.” 

“And he follows you,” Trelawney murmured. “Your ever-present shadow…”

Hari looked sideways, at McGonagall, who looked like she was hiding a laugh behind her teacup. 

Traitor.

“Hari, I’d like you to meet Sybill Trelawney,” Dumbledore cut in, smoothly. “She is our Divination professor.” 

“I noticed,” Hari replied, dryly. Then, to her, as politely as he could, he introduced, “I’m Hari Peverell. I’m-...Well, I’m Snape’s problem.”

There were a few titters at the table around him. 

“Yes, of course,” Trelawney said, finally releasing his hands. “I have seen, where I have looked - all omens bode that you will be a strong influence within the school, and upon Severus in particular.” 

“That’s the goal,” Hari said. “Much as he’ll fight me on it.” 

“You must take tea with me, one day,” Trelawney said. “I’d love to see what the leaves reveal for your future.” 

“Ah, honestly, I’d rather not know,” Hari said. 

Trelawney looked mildly offended. “I see. Many doubt the legitimacy of-...”

“Oh, no, divination has never really been wrong, for me,” Hari said, feeling several sets of surprised eyes on him. “It’s just that- everyone who looks at me tells me all the worst things that are going to happen. It makes it a lot harder to appreciate the good things along the way.” 

Trelawney hummed, understandingly, her entire demeanor changing, clearly pleased to find someone who didn’t think she was a complete hack. 

Sure, she was full of it, most of the time, but Hari had told the truth - her major predictions, her prophecies, they were right, and they were  _ important.  _

Also, Hari had died  _ twice,  _ so her constantly telling him he was going to was a little more forgivable, in hindsight. 

“It is rare,” she said, “to find one who appreciates the fine art of divination, even if you are reluctant to submit yourself to it. In that case, I will refrain from telling you the things I saw in your palm - it is better not to know.” 

“Great,” Hari replied, weakly. He was already regretting being nice. 

“Are you taking breakfast with us, Sybill?” McGonagall cut in, rescuing him. 

She eyed the length of the table, then stood. “I fear not. The number of diners is unbalanced, without Severus - it is best I keep to my tower, now that I have met our new staff member.” She turned a smile on him that he’d never seen before in his life. “If you should change your mind, I keep my rooms and office both above my classroom in the divination tower. Should you come for tea, I shall try my best to refrain from giving you the darker details of your reading.” 

“Brilliant, thanks,” Hari said, doing his best to mirror her smile. 

She nodded to him, then the rest of the table, and turned, sweeping out of the hall. 

McGonagall snorted, the second she was gone. “You’ve just become her favorite person, you know?” 

“I meant what I said,” Hari said. “Or, well, mostly. Some really important things in my life were predicted by my old divination teacher.” 

“You took divination?” McGonagall asked, sounding surprised. 

“I sort of picked my classes at random,” Hari admitted. “I wasn’t great in school, even before I left. Always had something else to be doing, instead.” 

“I see,” McGonagall said. “But you eventually learned your subjects, I presume, if you’re slotted to teach one?” 

“Snape’s fault,” Hari said, the story becoming more natural each time it came up. “He’s a good teacher if he puts his mind to it, he’s just also an asshole.”

More laughter. Hari had the feeling he was starting to win himself some appreciation among the teachers. 

“I’m curious to see how our potions reviews go,” Hari admitted. “I haven’t learned from him in a long time.” He propped his head up on a hand, thinking. “Particularly not potions. I’ve gotten pretty good at them, over the years, but I was awful with them in school. ...Might have been the environment, actually. The teacher hated me, and I was easily distracted.” He paused, running back over his own words in his mind. “I’m making myself sound like a terrible student, aren’t I? I had decent grades, I promise. I was probably in the upper third or so of most of my classes.” 

“It’s interesting to think that Severus would have managed to change your attitude about classes so much on his own,” McGonagall said. 

“Yeah, well,” Hari said. “I’m bad about fixating on things I find interesting, so all he really had to do was find something I care enough about. Talking and reading aren’t that. I liked  _ doing  _ things.” 

“I get that air from you, yes,” McGonagall said. “I imagine you will offer a more practical, tactile version of Severus’ lessons, for the students.”

“I’m mostly going to be walking around, helping students not to blow things up, I think,” Hari said. “It’ll still be up to Snape to teach the important parts.” 

“Forgive me, Hari, but I have a wonder,” McGonagall said. At Hari’s gesture to continue, she pointed out, “You ask that everyone call you by your first name.”

“I like it better,” Hari said, simply. “I’ve never much liked being addressed by my last name - formal respect makes me uncomfortable, really.” 

“Yet, Severus called you ‘Peverell’ exclusively,” McGonagall pointed out. “And you call him by his surname in turn.” 

“I call him lots of things,” Hari said, thinking of the range from ‘you absolute prick’ to the one, throwaway, mocking, ‘Severus.’ Remembering their argument the day before, he added, “And Snape will use my first name on special occasions.” 

“I see,” she said, just shy of a laugh. 

“Really, though, we started off on the wrong foot, when we first met,” Hari said. “And we got used to talking to each other a certain way. We like each other well enough, but the things that annoyed us then are still annoying now, and so we just sort of...keep at it.” He waved dismissively through the air. “It’s not that venomous, though. We both know what the other thinks of us, so it’s comfortable.” 

“You know each other’s true opinions well?” she asked. “No confusion at all, no doubt what the other thinks? Feels?” 

Hari eyed her, suspicious of the pointed questioning, but unable to identify the trap she was trying to set. “...Yes?” he answered, tentatively. “At least, I think so. I certainly know what  _ he  _ feels, anyway.”

“Which is?”

“Mostly annoyance,” Hari said. “Inconvenience. He’s never been able to get away from me completely, and I think he’s forgotten what it’s like to know peace.” 

“You think he’s simply accepted you as his lot in life?” McGonagall asked. 

Hari shot her another look. “Are you-...are you  _ analyzing  _ me? It’s not that deep, I promise. I’m just saying that we’re used to each other, is all. Most everything we do is force of habit.” 

She narrowed her eyes right back. “And you’re certain that’s  _ all  _ it is?”

Hari was suddenly aware of silence at the table, and several sets of eyes watching their interaction like a quidditch match, two seekers diving for the snitch as it darted back and forth between them. 

Hari shifted back in his seat, uneasy. “I should go review the notes he gave me,” he said, removing himself from the table. “It was good to speak to you all, again.”

“Hari-...”

He turned, quickly retreating from the great hall, resigning himself to getting something to eat in his own apartment while he studied.

Standing in front of the portrait, though, watching begonias of unknown meaning spring up as it unlocked, he remembered the rumor that he and Snape had accidentally started.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he breathed. “I just made it worse, didn’t I?” 

Abequa watched him in her silent judgement. 

“You’re as bad as Snape,” Hari told her. 

“And you,” another voice said, familiar and terse, “are speaking to yourself in a hallway.” 

Hari looked up, blinking in surprise as Snape emerged from behind the opening portrait. 

“Now,” he said. “Though I hate to ask -  _ what  _ did you make  _ worse?” _


	14. Chapter 14

"Oh, hello," Hari said, trying not to sound like he was dodging the question. "You weren't at breakfast."

"I have more crucial tasks to perform," Snape said. "What did you do?"

"I, um," Hari spared a glance sideways, as the portrait swung back shut, apparently tired of his indecision. "Shit."

"It will open again," Snape said, though he shifted to stand partly in the way, blocking Hari's access to it. "Answers, Peverell."

"I told McGonagall we argue out of force of habit," Hari said. "But the way I said it probably made the, uh, the  _ rumor... _ worse."

"Worse," Snape echoed. "Of course you did."

“In my defense,” Hari said, “Everything I said was true.” 

“Yes, that’s generally your way of doing things,” Snape said. “It can’t be helped, now. Assumptions that have been made have been made - all we can do is move forward and wait for the intrigue to die out.” 

“Well, I’ve added a few days to that,” Hari said. “As well as gotten myself an invite to the divination tower for  _ tea,  _ and probably a few omens of death, with Trelawney.” 

“She braved the daylight?” Snape asked. He didn’t actually sound surprised, suggesting that he was only asking to be an ass about it. “And what did our resident Seer have to say about the man who carries Death?” 

“That I’m very important to you,” Hari said.

Snape stared at him, incredulous. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” Hari said. “I’m going to be a major influence on you.” 

“Trelawney came down out of her tower to tell you you’re  _ important  _ to me?” 

“She really didn’t need to,” Hari said, grinning. “I already know you-...”

“Shut up,” Snape interrupted, and pushed him aside. “I have work to do.” 

“Come to lunch, at least!” Hari called after him. He got no response, other than watching Snape’s cloak sweep dramatically after him as he rounded the corner, so he only put the chances of Snape ignoring him down to about ninety-five percent, rather than a firm hundred. 

That in mind, he turned back to the portrait, raising his wand to let himself in again. 

Morning glory buds greeted him as the entrance opened, and he made a mental note to get himself a book about flower meanings at some point. 

  
  
  
  
  


Returning to the great hall for lunch came with great trepidation, as Hari was officially out of time to learn everything there was to learn  _ before  _ Snape fussed at him for not knowing it. 

On the bright side, they were starting with the basics, and even Hari couldn't be abysmal with those. In fact, he was relatively confident in the first five years' worth of materials. 

It was the NEWTS level potions that worried him - if he survived that long. 

To his simultaneous satisfaction and displeasure, Snape  _ was  _ at the table, this time. The other teachers had apparently stuck to their seating, leaving Snape in the same chair Hari had claimed at breakfast, and Hari rounded the table to take the other one. 

"I didn't expect you to listen to me," he admitted. "I figured I'd only see you when I came down to you."

Snape eyed him with something like distaste. "It had little to do with you," he said. "It is a shorter trip from the dungeons to here than to my own living quarters."

"So ask a house elf rather nicely to bring you a snack," Hari said. "You came up here to be friendly."

"Perhaps I was ensuring you did not conveniently forget our appointment."

"How could I?" Hari asked. "It's the only thing on my schedule for the foreseeable future. As of last night, I'm all yours."

Snape took a deep breath, looking like he was restraining the urge to reply to that, eyes dangerously close to rolling upward in some silent prayer for strength. 

"Well, actually," Hari said, "They moved Sirius already, didn't they?" 

"Took him to his ancestral home for house arrest this morning," Snape confirmed. "Whilst you were charming Trelawney into an invitation to tea."

"It's called being nice," Hari told him. "You should try it. Oh, actually, don't. You might catch fire."

Snape scowled. Hari took that as a point for his own house, and turned to the food, making himself a plate - he'd not actually eaten anything at breakfast, given the quick turn it had taken, and both meals he'd attended the day before had dissolved into arguments with Snape between bites, which had limited his appreciation for it. 

Getting a chance to properly enjoy himself, though, he was glad to be eating Hogwarts meals again. He'd been the worst sort of bachelor, terrible at taking care of anything, feeding himself at random from absolute garbage for the sake of convenience.

He could  _ feel  _ judgement from Snape as he gleefully served himself portions of all his favorites, but that was hardly anything new. 

"If you don’t mind my asking,” McGonagall said, “How old are you, Hari?”

“Is it because of the food?” he asked, grinning at her. “I’m twenty-seven.”

McGonagall blinked at him. “And you say you joined us when you were...how old? Sixteen?”

“Somewhere around there, yeah,” Hari said, offhand, looking along the table to see if he wanted anything else.

“Peverell,” Snape said, in a warning tone.

Hari looked at him, confused. "What?"

Snape let out a heavy sigh. 

"Speak to me in private, Minerva," he said, pushing back from the table and getting to his feet. 

Hari watched, bewildered, as both teachers stood and started away. 

"Where are you going?"

"I'll meet you in the dungeons," Snape told him. "Finish your meal."

Hari huffed, but turned back to his plate anyway - though some of his earlier glee was lost in the confusion. 

  
  
  
  
  


The second they were in the hall, Minerva turned hard eyes on him. 

"He was sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Severus corrected. "And your assumption is  _ wrong.  _ He was my student."

"I'm certain he was more than that, Severus," Minerva said. "You are thirty-four now, yes? When he was seventeen, you would have been-..."

"Twenty-four," Severus confirmed. "But he was my  _ student." _

"Don't give me that, Severus."

"He overstepped once," Severus said. "And I banned him from my office. That was the end of it."

"Was it?" She asked. 

Severus let out a low breath, and pulled out his wand, casting a quick silencing spell. 

She looked almost victorious. 

"Peverell hated me," Snape told her. "For a second, he'd forgotten that, but I assure you he didn't forget it long. We only reached an understanding in the last moments we saw each other, and then spent  _ ten years  _ convincing himself I was some sort of hero for protecting him. Neither of us is being  _ played,  _ Minerva. Our relationship is not what you believe it is. He is struggling to reconcile who he convinced himself I was with who he knows me to be currently, and what you see is the result." 

"I see," Minerva said. 

In her mind, she could almost see it: Hari, a young man, taking a liking to Severus, walking away from him with the mind that it was fully reciprocated-...

...And Severus, who clearly cared about him, violently shoving all such impressions aside, refusing to admit his own part in it. 

"Well," she said. "In any case, he is an adult now."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Do not meddle in this, Minerva."

"But he is important to you," Minerva said. 

Severus let out a low breath. "...Yes," he admitted, reluctantly. "He is. However, wanting to protect him does not necessarily extend to having an interest." He huffed again, adding, "And pursuing this is juvenile. Peverell has no filter. I assure you, if he thinks  _ anything  _ of me, I will hear about it, regardless of what it is. I do not need your  _ help." _

“So you’ll act on your own?” 

Severus exhaled sharply, eyes sliding closed in a prayer for patience. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he hissed out, “If I tell you what you  _ want  _ to hear, will you leave it well enough alone?”

“Not likely,” Minerva said. “However, I will be much happier.” 

Severus took a deep breath. Without looking at her or moving at all, he grit out, “Hari Peverell, at times, reminds me uncannily of Lily Evans. Other times, he is as far from her as physically possible. The distinction grows increasingly hard to define.”

“So that’s what this is?” she asked. “What-...”

“No,” Severus said, shooting her a flat look. “I’ve told you what you wanted. I’m going to my classroom to prepare before Peverell comes to destroy it.” 

“I’ll catch up with you later, then,” Minerva replied. 

“You will  _ not,”  _ Severus stressed. “If you insist on bothering someone, bother-...”

He stopped short. 

“Nevermind,” he breathed, frustrated. Hari only ever made it worse - it was much better she fixate on Severus.

Minerva, however, followed this line of thought the same moment Severus did, and her lips curled up into a small, smug smile. 

“Very well, Severus,” she said. “I’ll leave you be.”

“Why is this so fascinating to you?” Severus demanded. 

“Because,” Minerva said, “I have seen two people in your life speak to you that way, and get the same in turn, instead of genuine upset, and the comparison between the two is one you’ve already said.” 

“Peverell,” Severus muttered, “is  _ not  _ Lily.”

“No, he isn’t,” Minerva agreed, serious and gentle, rather than the amused tone of the rest of the conversation. “But for someone who so clearly resents everything in his life, it’s remarkable when you find something you actively pursue.” 

“I am not  _ pursuing  _ anything,” Severus said. “You act as though we’re teens.” 

“Well, you’ve acted like a teen for as long as I’ve known you,” Minerva said. “And he certainly doesn’t seem any better.” 

“I have a lesson to prepare,” Severus said. “Are you finished?”

“For now,” she agreed. “Summers are terribly boring in this castle, Severus.”

“Get a hobby,” he muttered in reply, dropping the silencing spell and starting off down the halls.

A moment later, as though summoned, Hari appeared through the doors, looking up and down the corridor. 

“Snape’s gone?” he asked, looking to Minerva. “What was he so fussed about?” 

“We were continuing a previous conversation,” Minerva said. “Are you off to join him in his classroom, then?” 

Hari sighed. “I guess. He’s going to torture me, I know he is. Last time we had a lesson with just us, he banned me from his office.”

Minerva remembered what Severus had said about that. She was curious as to what, precisely, Hari had gone for that Severus considered an ‘overstep’ - words? Actions? A combination of the two? - but knew better than to ask outright.

Or at all, really. Some things she didn’t really  _ need  _ to know.

“I imagine that will be hard to do again.”

Hari huffed out a laugh. “You’re right. I’m much harder to get rid of now.” He beamed at her.

She blinked, attention caught. “You…”

“I should head down,” Hari said, nodding to her. “I’ll see you later, Professor.”

He headed off in the same direction Severus had gone, and she was left in the hall, standing shock still. 

His eyes…

...For a second, she’d seen Lily Evans, too. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Hari made it about two steps into the classroom before Snape started in on him. 

“You,” Snape told him, sharply, “are an  _ idiot.” _

“I haven’t even done anything,” Hari defended. “I’ve not even touched a cauldron.” 

“Your stupid  _ rumor,  _ Peverell,” Snape snapped. “At lunch, you tripped over your own alibi again. You realize that you being  _ twenty-seven  _ makes our age gap  _ seven years?” _

“...So?” Hari asked. “It’s not like we can use the real one. You’d have to be way older than they think you are.” 

“Yes, Peverell,” Snape said, slowly, as though speaking to someone mentally deficient. “But that would mean that when  _ you,  _ as a  _ sixteen year old,  _ joined the Order, you were placed into the care of someone who was, at the time,  _ twenty four.”  _

Hari blinked. “I still don’t…?” 

He stopped. 

The rumor. The damn  _ rumor. _

“Oh, shit,” Hari breathed. 

“Finally.” Snape sat a cauldron down on one of the classroom tables, so harshly Hari was half concerned the legs of it would buckle. “I managed to reign in assumptions before you  _ irrevocably  _ damaged my character, but you can’t afford to be careless about your background. I’m including this in the potions lessons - I will not have a subpar assistant, and I  _ will not  _ let you convince people I am anything I am not.” 

“...Seventeen’s adult, for wizards,” Hari protested, weakly. 

“Get over here, Peverell,” Snape snapped. “Cure for boils. I trust you’ve learned it?”

Hari blinked, approaching the cauldron cautiously. “I know it, mostly.”

_ “Mostly?” _

“What, was I supposed to memorize it?” Hari said. “Am I supposed to know over fifty potions by heart?” 

“Ideally, yes,” Snape said. He stalked across the room, coming back a moment later with a first year potions book, which he dropped on the table in front of Hari. “But I suppose the  _ ideal  _ is far beyond your reach.” 

“Most likely,” Hari agreed in a mutter, opening the book, searching for the proper entry. Pointing to the instruction guide, he looked up to Snape, asking, “Is this right?”

Snape stared at him like he’d lost his mind entirely. “Is it  _ right?”  _

“Well, obviously, it’s what you’re supposed to do,” Hari said. “But the potions in your sixth year book were all corrected. You had different ways to do stuff. Is any of this better a different way?”

Snape let out a low breath, but to Hari’s relief, a significant portion of the rage behind his eyes seemed to burn out. Maybe it was just him compartmentalizing, or perhaps he took the question as a sign Hari was taking things seriously - either way, he rounded the table, coming to stand beside Hari, dropping a bony finger to the page. 

“Each measure of powdered snake fang should be administered to a seperate section of potion base,” Snape said. “Dividing the cauldron into quarters is the simplest method. Don’t keep it too close to the edges, however - they will stick to the sides and cook in, rather than mix evenly.”

“Right,” Hari said, taking a mental note. “That’s-...”

Snape moved his finger down another line. “The slugs will need to be placed in a  _ separate  _ configuration.” 

“Okay,” Hari said. 

Snape moved down another line. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Hari breathed. “Did the book get  _ anything  _ right?”

Snape shot him an unimpressed look. “It’s not  _ incorrect,”  _ he said. “It’s  _ lacking.”  _

“Then why use it?” Hari asked. “You could just write your own bloody textbook, at this point.” 

Snape faltered. “....And  _ when  _ would I have time for  _ that?”  _

Hari reached out, snatching up the potions book, gesturing through the air with it. “While I’m stuck grading your papers, maybe?” 

“That implies a level of trust we have not reached, Potter.”

“Peverell,” Hari corrected. “Does that mean you think we  _ will  _ reach it?”

“Start the potion,” Snape told him, rather than answer, which Hari took as a positive sign. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Dad,” Ron said, as the Weasley family settled in for lunch, his first proper full day home. “Do you know anything about Indian wizards?”

“Indian?” Arthur echoed. “Wizards from India?”

“What else would he mean?” Fred asked, then hissed, likely having been kicked in the shin by one of their siblings. 

“Yeah,” Ron said. “There’s a new teacher, at Hogwarts, next year - he’s gonna be helping Snape in potions classes.”

“Oh, yeah,” Fred said. “That guy. They called him  _ Peverell.” _

“Peverell?” Arthur frowned. “I suppose if he’s from India, that’s not entirely improbable. A bit odd of him to come this way, though.” He blinked, then, before turning bewildered eyes on Ron. “Did you say  _ Snape?”  _

“Yeah!” Fred cried.

“It’s bloody weird,” George added. “They were talking to each other the whole dinner, before we left.”

“Never looked up once,” Fred agreed.  _ “You  _ two don’t talk that much, and you’re  _ married.”  _

Arthur flushed. “Well, we-...That’s-...” He shook his head. “You-...”

“In any case,” Molly said, sternly, “he is a teacher now, yes? And so is  _ Professor Snape.  _ It isn’t any of your business to be digging into, so don’t go causing trouble.”

“But he’s known Snape forever,” Ron said. “Hermione and Harry said they were best friends or something.”

Arthur frowned, looking over at Molly, who looked like she was trying very hard to keep her surprise and doubt from her face. 

“Even adults you don’t like are permitted to have friends,” Molly said, firmly. 

“Strange, though,” Arthur murmured. “Never known Snape for sociable. And with a wizard from another country, as well- not even a close one.” He blinked, before looking to Molly, alarmed. “You don’t suppose he’s-..?”

_ “Arthur,” _ she cut him off sharply. “It is not our business.” 

Arthur sat back in his chair, thinking. “Someone at the Ministry might have heard of him.” 

Molly sighed. “You can’t dig into the life of a stranger because you can’t imagine Professor Snape with friends.” 

“Hermione says they’re close,” Ron said. “But Harry said they argued a whole lot, too.” 

Molly turned suspicious eyes on him. “And how do they know?”

Ron faltered. “Ah…”

“Tell them the bit Harry told us!” Fred chimed in, coming to his rescue.

“Oh, yeah!” George added, eager. “About the dementors!”

“The what?” Molly said, sharply. “What  _ about  _ the dementors?”

“Oh, right,” Ron said. “When Harry and Hermione were with Sirius, there were a whole horde of dementors. They said there were hundreds, or something. And Peverell saved them.”

“He did?” Arthur asked, leaning forward in interest. “How?”

“He did a spell,” Ron said. “A-...oh, what was it-...”

“A Patronus?” Arthur guessed. “Those are the only real defense against dementors, to my knowledge.”

“Yeah, that!” Ron confirmed. “He did one of those. Except, Harry said it was  _ massive.  _ Some gigantic horse thing, with wings.”

“A pegasus?” Arthur guessed again, surprised. 

“I guess,” Ron said. “Harry said it was all skinny and bony, though, like something was wrong with it.”

“That’s-...You don’t suppose it was a thestral?” he looked to Molly. “It has to be, right?”

“I can’t imagine what else it would be,” Molly murmured, apparently forgetting her initial conviction to stay out of it. 

“That’s so strange,” Arthur said. Looking to his sons, he explained, “Corporeal patronus charms are very difficult, so few can produce them properly, and they typically take the form of a regular, non-magical creature. To be a  _ thestral,  _ of all things…”

“Question,” George chimed in. “What, exactly, is a  _ thestral?”  _

“They pull the carriages at Hogwarts,” Molly told him. “The invisible horses - those are thestrals.”

“If it’s invisible,” Ron asked, “How’s it we know what it looks like?”

“Dump paint over it,” Fred suggested. 

“Smoke bombs?” George added. 

“Anything that shows the outline, really,” Fred said. “I think-...”

“Thestrals,” Percy interrupted, seemingly reaching the end of his patience in staying out of it, “are not  _ always  _ invisible. Some people can see them.”

“How?” Ginny asked. “None of us can see them, on the way to the castle, and there’s a ton of students.  _ Who  _ can see them? Is it just adults?”

“No,” Molly said, quietly. “No, it’s much worse than that.”

All eyes turned eagerly on her, but she just shook her head. Knowing the structure of their family well enough, all children looked instead to their father, who sat back in his seat again, looking worn. 

“Thestrals,” he said, “can only be seen by someone who has witnessed death, and truly understood it.” 

“What a weird thing to be your favorite,” Fred said, sitting back as well. “He’s got to be some kind of weirdo.”

“A patronus isn’t your  _ favorite  _ animal,” Percy told him. 

“And how would you know?” George asked, leaning over to him. “Can you make one?”

Percy flushed red. “I-...!”

“It’s  _ not  _ your favorite,” Arthur cut in. “It’s an animal that  _ represents  _ you, deep down.”

“How’s that?” Ron asked. “Harry’s is a big deer thing.”

“A stag?” Arthur asked, surprised again. “That was his father’s, too. They’re gentle, but strong - it fits them both well. A  _ thestral,  _ though…” 

“That settles it, though, right?” Fred said. “He’s friends with Snape, and his patronus is creepy. He’s absolutely a Death Eater.”

“Fred!” Molly snapped. 

“Not necessarily,” Arthur said, frowning. “Especially if Dumbledore’s hired him on to the school. I don’t see him bringing in anyone he couldn’t trust.” 

“What about the man with the Dark Lord in a turban?” George asked. 

“Or Lockhart,” Fred added. “He was probably worse, honestly.” 

“He was that,” Ron muttered. 

Molly huffed. “You’re all being incredibly unfair.” 

“He was a pretty rubbish teacher, actually,” Ginny finally piped in. 

“I  _ meant  _ about this man,” Molly said. “We know nothing about him, and it  _ isn’t. Our. Business.  _ You will find out in the next school year what sort of teacher he is, and that’s all you need to know.”

All the children looked, again, to Arthur.

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, quietly. Then - clearly for Molly’s benefit - he added, more firmly, “But it isn’t our business. Not at all.” 

Molly turned back to her dinner, satisfied, and Arthur caught Ron’s eye across the table, and winked. 


End file.
